


Of Grief, Schemes and Sundry

by GizmoTrinket



Series: A Tale Involving Tails [2]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Biphobia, Cliffhanger, Demisexual Wong, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Grooming, I said cliffhanger - right?, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, JARVIS is done with everyone and it's only 2012, Manipulation, POV Alternating, Protective Happy, Referenced Sexism, continuation from previous fic in series - nothing new or graphic, full AI JARVIS, goose - Freeform, mostly character studies, pre-Pepper Potts/Happy Hogan, pre-Wong/Mordo, referenced Pepper Potts/ Phil Coulson, references to Captian Marvel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:54:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22013668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GizmoTrinket/pseuds/GizmoTrinket
Summary: The aftermath of the New York Invasion without Tony.An interlude.
Relationships: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Series: A Tale Involving Tails [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1405450
Comments: 46
Kudos: 102





	1. Prologue - Ancient One

**Author's Note:**

> We need some outside POVs to properly grasp everyone in part two (and I needed that too, so might as well make it into a fic). This is not really part of the story and can be skipped if you want to stick to only seeing Tony and Stephen’s POV. Parts of this might change as I write part two, I just need to know/have a guideline to work from. 
> 
> People on Twitter wanted an update despite knowing that I am ending this part of the story on a cliffhanger and may have to change it to match part two when it’s finished being written. So… here it is, blame twitter.
> 
> FYI, this is a finished fic. It's been written and will be updated as it is edited and beta'ed. I hope to post a new chapter a week, but I won't put pressure on anyone so there's no set schedule.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'ed by the incredible [Missaness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missaness/profile)

Stephen was… different… than she expected. In the futures she’d seen he’d always come to them angry and desperate. This time he’d come, he’d been that way too. But, he hadn’t reached the height of his career yet. He had so much unrecognized potential. He knew he was the best, but he hadn’t proven it unequivocally yet. His move to the new hospital had come far earlier than she’d seen. (Though, to be fair, the last time she browsed the future it had been 1953.)

She’d seen the accident that resulted in cat people as a possibility, but she’d dismissed it and moved on. The Flerken known as Goose had been on Earth for ages. She was a guardian of the Tesseract but had avoided humans as much as possible. When she’d been left she’d been instructed not to harm them, which led to the Red Skull fiasco. 

After that, the Ancient One had checked to make sure that the use of the Tesseract hadn’t attracted unwanted attention. It hadn’t, even when SHIELD found it and started experiments. The Ancient One set up additional wards against extradimensional attention and left the physical fallout to the world’s governments to deal with. She had long ago learned that preventing war was impossible and split too much of her focus. 

The Ancient One felt it when Mar-Vell came and started working with the cube. She had seen that Goose was happy to have an alien around. The Flerken started to warm to humans and had taken guardianship of the Skrulls. This always happened, and Carol Danvers’s powers were always a result. She’d been tempted to use the Eye of Agamotto to make sure everything was as it should be, but with aliens so near she resisted. She had sorcerers on guard, just in case, but Danvers was able to protect Earth without any help.

When Stephen came, he arrived in 2011, not 2016. Normally this wouldn’t phase The Ancient One. Many things could cause differences in their pupils then they found them. However, Stephen wasn’t just another potential master. If she allowed him entry he would be the next Sorcerer Supreme, he’d become the most powerful Sorcerer Earth had ever seen. Different artifacts had shown her this, had shown her just how bright his future would be, or just how dark he could plunge the entire multiverse if he so chose. 

He’d always come, desperate to regain his career, to be on top again. The times when he came later, once he’d been knocked off his pedestal had been darkest. He’d been ruthless, his goodness destroyed by thoughts of glory and revenge. Would this iteration focus on regaining his career? Or would his desire to prove himself best in something make him reckless and put the Earth in danger?

Whenever someone new joined them she looked at their future while they waited on the doorstep. It was possible to see beyond her death as long as the focus was on someone else. Though, it was more difficult and less accurate. More than likely Thanos would come. In the futures where Thanos came to Earth, Tony Stark was vital to the survival of the universe. It didn’t matter if he’d become Iron Man or not. And whenever Stephen had interacted with him it had left a mark on him, for better or for worse. She couldn’t control Tony Stark, so she hadn’t probed into his future.

She should have. Tony Stark and Stephen Strange were intertwined. They left marks upon each other because their souls knew each other and drew them together.

Never had she seen them _know_ that they were soulmates. Never had she seen them bound to each other in more than a typical relationship. 

The cat people held more magic than she realized.

She’d seen Stephen sacrifice Tony more often than not to protect the universe. It always wounded him deeply when he did, and those futures were brightest for the sorcerers. Stephen had carried that weight and had worked hard to ensure Earth was never in that position again. People suffered without Tony to invent machines to solve the problems that came with drastic population change. When he died, the physical realm of Earth suffered. 

That wasn’t their problem, though. Humanity survived, the Earth survived, that was all that mattered.

The Ancient One meditated and consulted everything she could. Her time was ending, whether or not she allowed Stephen to study the Mystic Arts, she would meet her end in the next decade. Mordo would likely take up the mantel, but he needed Stephen to reach his full potential. Without him, Mordo was too rigid and the Universe was often lost because he wouldn’t bend the rules or take any risks. In the futures where he thrived, Stephen had guided him to the light. Shown him that, yes, breaking the rules could break reality, but if there was no reality to break then it didn’t really matter.

This time was the same. Nothing had changed Mordo enough to prevent the Earth from falling when he took the role. Perhaps he would die before he failed, but he never thrived and there was lasting damage in all but one of the futures she’d seen.

Still, seeing Stephen bonded to Tony worried her. She couldn’t change the past, so she focused on what she could do in the time she had left to keep Stephen on the brightest path.

***

The Ancient One didn’t think Stephen saw it, but she knew Tony did. 

“Why are you sad when you look at him?” Tony asked her when they were alone.

The Ancient One thought of the possibilities in the future and Stephen’s place in them.

“I worry about him,” she said after what must have felt like a long time. “He will have many trials to overcome in the future and no matter what he does, I do not have enough time to prepare him.”

Tony frowned, a crinkle of worry appearing between his brows. 

It humanized him for her. He’d always been an abstract construct, and only considered in the way he affected Stephen. 

“You’ll be good for him,” she said, taking a risk. She didn’t know what his other futures held, but she’d known enough to see he’d suffered. Those things could happen here, of course. But... “He’ll help you, if you let him.”

He looked away and she could already see the toll his life was taking on him. No matter what happened, his future would add to the weight he carried. 

“You’ve seen it then?” he asked.

The Ancient One considered her possible answers. She knew he was speaking about Thanos, about the army, about the threats from space. She’d seen him create monstrous devices that wiped out most of humanity in an effort to protect them countless times. She’d also seen the aftermath when he’d done nothing. He was a protector of the physical Earth, and the people on it mattered to him. It would be the same for Stephen if they bonded.

In the end, she couldn’t lie. “Yes.”

“Will it be bad?”

She considered his question carefully.

“There are many variables; it may not even come to pass.”

She saw his jaw set.

“Another invasion is not the worst thing Earth will face; your choices could end humanity before another army ever arrives.”

That startled him, though she didn’t know why. He had to have known what he was capable of. Sometimes his choices led to Hydra killing Stephen before his accident. And she’d seen Ultron destroy the Earth. He knew his weapons killed innocents, and those were just missiles wielded by greedy men. Nothing like he was capable of. 

Tony seemed distressed and she figured she’d meddled so much that a little more couldn’t hurt.

“You can’t prevent death, you can respond and prepare, of course. But even with the best intentions, weapons can end up in the wrong hands. Sometimes things are better not created in the first place.”

At that, Tony glared at her.

She smiled at him warmly, trying to convey that she wasn’t upset about his past mistakes, only wanted to prevent future ones.

He seemed to understand and accept that.

“Is it a mistake?” he asked.

This time she didn’t know what was on his mind.

“Is what a mistake?”

“Bonding with Strange?”

“Only the two of you can decide that.” 

Like she’d guessed, he didn’t seem happy with that response.

“Not bonding, though, hurts you both.” She knew he’d see that she wasn’t saying that to avoid the question or to try to manipulate him. Or that she was trying to say that bonding wouldn't hurt both of them. He already knew that.

“This is crazy!” he snapped.

She’d been waiting for him to hit this point for a while. He’d been incredibly patient so far; she figured that was the concussion’s fault. She just turned his head at him and gave him the same smile that always got Stephen going.

“Magic! It’s not a real thing!”

“Isn’t it?” Every time this happened, she found it humorous. More often than not, the most skeptical had the most potential. She chuckled, much to Tony’s irritation.

He mumbled something uncomplimentary and stormed off.

She decided she’d look at the future again after training the latest apprentices, she liked Tony and wanted him to thrive. If there was anything she could do to help that happen she would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go read [Amor Vicit Omnia [ARC 1] ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19396738) by veriante. The part I read (I stopped a few chapters into ARC 2 bc I needed to work on this) is amazing.


	2. Chapter 1 - Pepper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newly appointed CEO Pepper Potts has to hold her own after the apparent death of Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has hand-wavy corporate policies. I did a little research into fortune 500 companies and laws and after reading a few conflicting articles I realized that it’ll be too difficult to find stuff from 2012. So, eff it, it’s an au.
> 
> Beta'ed by the incomparable [Missaness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missaness/profile)

Pepper watched, heart in her throat, as Iron Man, Mr. Stark— _Tony—_ flew a missile through the hole all the aliens were coming from. When he disappeared, she held her breath, waiting for him to come back through.

It became uncomfortable and when the portal started to close she cried out.

When the sky cleared there was no sign of him anywhere.

He was gone.

***

“Might I remind you, I am still CEO,” Pepper said, calmly but firmly. 

Inside she was screaming. She couldn’t go through this again. Afghanistan had been so hard. She still had nightmares that they’d never found him. Worst were the ones where they did find him but wish they hadn’t. Her mind was full of atrocities and violent deaths, gruesome images gathered from both the news and her work as The Merchant of Death’s assistant. She had hugged Tony when he’d had his unofficial correspondence scanned and written the algorithm to filter the important stuff to her email. People were angry with him for creating weapons and they blamed Tony for, what she had thought of at the time, indirect unforeseen damage. She hadn’t known about Stane’s activity.

The thought of any of those things happening to Tony…

Now, though, she had new images running through her mind. The armor, Tony dead and frozen inside, floating alone for eternity. Or, maybe he had been picked up by the aliens. 

She had thought of those creepy monsters eating him alive, of experimenting on him, of stealing the arc reactor and reverse engineering it, or forcing him to do what the terrorists had wanted, building them weapons.

Even if he could manage to escape (and if anyone could, it would be Tony) there would be no way for him to get back to Earth. 

The portal was closed.

“Yes,” her least favorite board member agreed with a greasy smile, bringing her out of her thoughts. “But, that was Tony’s decision. We allowed it because he would still be part of the company. Having him to take over R&D only made sense, his devices for green energy made great PR, had good profit potential and required his oversight.”

Pepper took a deep breath. It was so frustrating to have to remain calm at all times. Tony hadn’t needed to; he could do whatever he wanted. But it was different for her. Not just because she had been his assistant, but because she was a woman. One of only eighteen in the Fortune 500. If she snapped or yelled or showed any emotion or the smallest amount of stress she was feeling these sharks would attack. Right now, they were just testing the water.

“An interesting view of the events, seeing as how Stark Industries has bylaws and Ton—" she cut herself off. “—Mr. Stark naming me his successor had nothing to do with you.”

Her correction hadn’t been smooth enough. Other board members were leaning forward. They smelled blood in the water.

“Mr. Stark is, unfortunately, dead. Combine that fact with the stock drop and we are allowed to vote you out.”

“Yes, what we need is to return to steady profits, government contracts. Mr. Stark’s weapon designs survive him and—”

“No,” Pepper said darkly. She bared her teeth and she felt the temperature in the office drop. The man who had spoken had fear in his eyes. 

She’d had enough.

“Let’s start at the beginning, shall we? One, Mr. Stark is not dead. It has been well established that he cannot be declared dead until a body is recovered or he has been missing for twelve years...” How Tony had managed twelve was beyond her, somehow he always got what he wanted.

“But, there’s an exemption for proof—”

Pepper wasn’t going to stand for any interruptions. “There is no proof,” she said, and she had never sounded colder or more terrifying. “You cannot prove, beyond a doubt, that Tony is not alive and with those or any other aliens.”

She forced her body back to what Tony referred to as her, _“Terminator-Meets-Xenomorph Mode,”_ and the board members relaxed slightly. She briefly wondered what Tony might have called her previous demeanor. 

“Two...” she continued as if she’d never been interrupted, “...anyone found conspiring to sell weapons is immediately fired and, if appropriate, brought up on charges.”

“That was because of Stane’s double dealing, it doesn’t apply to this,” the board member who had shown her the most support said with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

The betrayal hurt but she didn’t allow herself to show it.

“Does it?” she asked with mock innocence. She was furious with herself that she hadn’t seen through his manipulations.

The fear in his eyes as he tried to recall the precise language in the restructuring documents they’d all signed when she’d taken over made her mouth twist up.

Looking around the table, each face showed the same expression or anger at the man who’d given them all away, who now had his head buried in his StarkPad, frantically scrolling through his contract.

“Happy, I’m going to need the entire board escorted off premises,” she said into the intercom, the smile on her face twisted in bitter victory. The room brightened as the normally opaque glass turned clear.

She couldn’t kick them all off the board yet, and might not be able to get rid of them all period. But she knew that she’d find enough evidence to boot the majority and until the investigation was over they’d be on administrative leave so she’d be able to run the business without their interference.

Happy came in, flanked by other members of his security team and started escorting them out, taking their badges and ignoring their protests.

Pepper was happy the meetings were recorded, she would use each shouted threat, slur and insult against them.

People were staring, some already tapping away at their StarkPhones. She knew the cameras would turn to her soon, if they hadn’t already, so she controlled her expression and posture. She realized that their stock was about to plummet, again. When one of the board members punched Happy, she started making a mental list of everything she needed to do to ensure Stark Industries didn’t fail and continued in the direction Tony had wanted.

She tapped the button to completely black out the room as soon as it was clear and allowed herself to sit down. She called their PR department when she was sure her voice would be steady.

***

Pepper was picking at the meal Happy had brought her when Rhodes finally called back. She pushed the food away. Eating was important, she knew it and had informed Tony of it too many times to count. But she’d been awake for almost twenty four hours, spending them all at the office trying to put out fires, and the noodle dish would put her right to sleep. She didn’t have time to rest.

“Hi,” Pepper greeted Tony’s oldest friend warmly. She knew she should have been mad, he must have known what the board was up to, had to have heard something and didn’t warn her. But, she knew he was missing Tony just as much as she was and right now she just wanted someone to lean on. 

Happy was trying, but every time she mentioned Tony he started crying. He was wearing sunglasses constantly. It was better to let him save face and keep busy.

“Ms. Potts.” Rhodes was cold and professional. 

The crushing weight on her chest nearly overwhelmed her. Rhodes, Rhodey, Tony’s best friend, might not be—probably wasn’t—suffering as much as she was.

Well, she might as well get straight to the point, then.

“Names.” There was no question, just demand, all her walls were back up, she was the ice-cold CEO once more.

“I’m afraid I can’t help you,” he said, his tone matching hers.

“Can’t, or won’t?”

“Look,” his tone turned plaintive. “We both know Tony isn’t coming back. We also know that the aliens are. Tony wants—wanted—to protect us, that’s all he ever wanted. We don’t need green energy to fight them, we need weapons.”

Pepper wanted to scream. She’d known Rhodes had gotten a lot of shit from this bosses for not bringing Tony back into the fold. And she understood his position, of course she did. But she knew what Tony wanted. What he had died for, what thoughts were keeping him sane if he was still alive.

“That is _never_ going to happen,” Pepper spat the words with all the venom she could. “I know what Tony wants, what he’s always wanted, and it’s not weapons. He built them because Howard did, because he got suckered into thinking that the government could be trusted.”

She heard Rhodes take a breath but she didn’t allow him to speak. “We both know that it wasn’t just Stane making shady deals. We left it alone because we had our hands full changing the direction of Stark Industries and SHIELD said they were on it.

“And we don’t know that the aliens will come back, SHIELD has the man responsible locked up. Even if they didn’t, it wouldn’t matter. We shot a nuke into their army.

“Tony wants to protect people, of course he does, but he doesn’t want collateral damage. He doesn’t want to be safe at the expense of the innocent. At the expense of freedom,” she finished.

Rhodes snorted indelicately. “You really believe that, don’t you? Look, Tony was a good guy, but if he had the option to kill terrorists before they struck, before they even took the first move, he would. He didn’t believe in not making weapons, he believed in making weapons only he can wield.”

“How can you say that?” Pepper seethed. “If that were true, you wouldn’t have War Machine!”

“If I really had War Machine, the government would have an army of suits. There’s a self-destruct built in and a million triggers for it. I noticed the first, he planted it in the… Well, it was an inside joke. But, my point stands. We can add all the weapons to it we want, but we can’t reverse engineer it.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing! It’s in the contract that you don’t even try to take it apart. And my point still stands, he would have never given you, a _fucking government puppet, apparently,_ control of one of the best— if not _the_ best—weapon of all time. You can do anything you want with it. You could blow New York off the map if you had a bomb—”

She blinked rapidly, trying to process the sudden tangent her thoughts had taken.

“Look, this has gotten out of control.” Rhodes’s voice had changed, he sounded more like the man she groaned over Tony’s antics with. “You know—”

“Shut up.”

Why did Tony have to guide the nuke in the first place? They had the ability to aim it into the portal, or to send one that could fly through there. They could have had it remotely piloted, if they sent the right one. They had more than enough time to select the one they chose. Tony would have happily provided a visual, either from his suit or from the tower. Even if they wanted assurance that it’d hit its mark Tony wouldn’t have had to push it up into the wormhole. Not like that, not as close as it was. He would have just had to nudge it.

“Pepper—”

“Just shut up! I’m… _Oh…”_

The nuke was never intended for the portal. They’d wanted to take out the city before the aliens spread. If the portal somehow survived the blast, which she was fairly sure it wouldn’t, the creatures, clearly carbon based, would be flying right into toxic radiation.

She hung up on Rhodes.

“Happy!” she screeched. She didn’t care about moderating her voice, it was three in the morning, no one important would be here to judge. She stood and swayed. God, she was so tired. 

He came running, sliding through the door. “What’s wrong?”

“The tower. We need to go. Now. I need JARVIS.”

He glanced at her uneaten meal but didn’t argue. 

“I’ll get the car. Is there anything you need on the way?”

She looked at her heels, knowing there was no way she was going to be able to walk in them. She didn’t keep flats in the office, though. She only had another pair of heels. She never showed weakness and wouldn’t allow herself the opportunity to do so.

“Here,” Happy said, and toed off his shoes.

“Happy, no. I can’t,” she said. Her voice betrayed her though. She really didn’t want to walk barefoot.

“C’mon, no time to waste.”

She didn’t try to hide her smile as she slipped them on. They were far too large, but they weren’t uncomfortable and they weren’t so big she was going to trip.

He escorted her the whole way, never grabbing her or hinting at her state. He looked like the consummate bodyguard, but she knew he’d catch her if she swayed.

When she fell into the backseat she only pulled herself up through sheer force of will. If she stayed down she would sleep. Sleeping was bad. There was too much to do.

She pulled out her phone and tapped at it with increasing frustration before realizing it was dead.

“Who do you need to call?” Happy asked, meeting her eyes in the rearview mirror.

Her shoulders fell in defeat, she was too tired to put on an act or to even berate herself for allowing her phone’s battery to die. 

“Phil, please.”

Happy nodded and started pushing on the console.

“What would I do without you?” she sighed as she heard the first ring through the speakers.

Happy smiled fondly but didn’t answer.

***

She’d had Happy call Phil repeatedly on the ride to Stark Tower but he never answered. She could admit to herself that it was a long shot that he’d answer in the first place and he’d probably never tell her anything even if he did, so she shouldn’t feel disappointed. 

Still, she did feel slightly abandoned. First Rhodes leaving her to deal with everything alone, (possibly actively acting against her) and now her boyfriend? She couldn’t catch a break.

She propped herself up against Happy on the elevator ride up to Tony’s penthouse. She didn’t try to fight it, just leaned into him, accepting and appreciating the support.

JARVIS didn’t greet them in the building or the elevator, but she hadn’t expected him to. SHIELD had probably tried to hack him and he’d gone to ground. Tony had showed her how to reboot and access him.

It was almost funny, she’d thought he was being paranoid when he’d gone through everything. But, she hadn’t fought it, just listened. He’d been different since Afghanistan and even though Stane was gone she knew the man had hurt Tony in ways she couldn’t imagine.

When the doors open she groaned.

“Oh, _God.”_ There was broken glass everywhere. The stupid windows Tony had insisted on were shattered and the floor was destroyed. It looked like a warzone.

Happy took his shoes from her feet and ran to get her one of the pairs she kept here for whenever she needed to come and drag Tony out of his lab to make a presentation. She didn’t like standing over his shoulder for an hour in heels.

When he came back he knelt down and helped her put them on. 

She supposed she should have felt something other than thankful, like embarrassment (she was wearing a skirt, after all), but she didn’t. 

Happy never turned his head away from the ground. She appreciated it, and told him so as he helped her through the rubble. 

He gave her an odd look when she stopped in front of the linen closet. She reached forward and pressed her thumb to the hidden scanner under the scattered towels (there was something to be said for Tony’s brilliance. He made all the shelves out of the same material and there were no special marks. The material heated, keeping the towels warm, so there was absolutely nothing suspicious about the electrical hookup. Which was good, because someone—probably SHIELD—had clearly ransacked the place) until the keypad appeared. She typed in her code and waited.

“It’s good to see you, Ms. Potts,” JARVIS said with more emotion than she’d ever heard before in the AI’s voice.

“It’s good to hear you, JARVIS. Do you know if Tony…?” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the question _._

“I lost contact when Sir went through the portal.”

“Why did he…?” She couldn’t decide if she should say, _“have to go,”_ or _“choose to go.”_ She didn’t want to think about the implications of either.

JARVIS answered, “It was the only way to save everyone from the bomb.”

 _Well, that confirms it,_ she thought bitterly. They’d sentenced Manhattan, New York, possibly the entire Eastern seaboard to death, and Tony had sacrificed himself to save them.

“I need everything. The calls, the video... all of it,” she said. She didn’t have energy to waste, she was swaying on her feet.

“Where shall I send it?” JARVIS asked soberly.

Maybe it was a bad idea. Maybe her grief, the lack of sleep and the stress made her too impulsive. And she considered that for about half a second before thinking, _fuck it._

“YouTube.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Rhodey. :(
> 
> Need something else to read? I recommend [Ten times outta nine, I'm a hand grenade](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17923517) by twobettafish. It’s an ironstrange time-travel do-over WIP and it’s incredible.


	3. Chapter 2 - Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I imagine every single day is a long day for Fury, but some are probably longer than others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven’t seen Agents of SHIELD and this is an au so I just relied on vague wiki articles :P Also, Since Goose’s pronouns change throughout Captain Marvel they’re going to change in this story too. We’re going to lean into the continuity problems. Triangle toast, y’all!
> 
> Beta'ed by the amazing [Missaness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missaness/profile)

Fury had a headache. It was a common occurrence whenever he had to explain himself, and unfortunately he had a lot to account for. 

The World Security Council had ignored him after the aliens were defeated in New York. Fury hadn’t rocked the boat, just took advantage of the unexpected freedom to send Coulson off for Project TAHITI. He had died—Fury hadn’t lied about that—but the thing was; people didn’t need to stay dead. If the WSC started making a fuss he would have had to deal with that first. He was glad because he had a feeling that the longer a person was dead, the harder it would be to revive them.

It made sense (if you didn’t think about it too much).

Agent Romanov had been poking around, she reported that the WSC was working on a coup of Stark Industries. They wanted whatever designs were hidden on the servers and control of all their patents. Most of the weapon manufacturing plants were sitting idle under lock and key, the machinery hadn’t been dismantled. One just needed to turn everything back on.

She had commented that they may want to warn Potts, but Fury didn’t want to get involved. If the WSC got control of SI, then he’d have access to everything. Yes, _maybe_ he felt a little guilty that he hadn’t been able to stop that plane and that Stark was dead, but it wasn’t like the man was going to come back, and Earth needed all the protection it could get. 

He had thought that the Skrull would be able to protect them, but after Thor it was clear they couldn’t. He had gone up to speak to them and left a double to reign in Stark with Romanov.

That had been a disaster. Next time, he’d send Talos, or someone who was smart enough not to stab a cat in the neck with an unknown drug. Yeah, it was a power move, but Stark had spent his whole life terrified that he’d be captured and experimented on.

Fury had started experiments with the Tesseract when the Skrull admitted they’d be useless against the rainbow bridge. And, that backfired. He’d somehow opened the door to something even worse. There hadn’t been time to put anything new in place, the New York attack had happened too quickly. And, it wasn’t like he—or anyone else, for that matter—had considered portals.

That portal really pissed him off. That, and the fact that Rogers had decided to close it on his teammate. Seriously, what the _fuck?_ If that had been Barnes—hell, any of the Howling Commandos—he would have waited. He had no right to give that order. He didn’t know what modern nukes were capable of or have a good visual. Romanov should have known better than to follow it, but Fury had ordered her to follow Rogers, to help him take up the mantle of leader again, so he couldn’t even reprimand her for it. If she’d given Rogers more information, kept him talking, kept delaying him, then maybe Stark would have made it back. Stark was far more useful than his company’s resources. Sure, SHIELD’s manipulations weren’t working as well as he’d hoped and Stark seemed to be both more sane and more unstable than he expected, but give him a little time and he’d have had Stark eating out of his hand.

“Sir?” Romanov was looking at him like she knew what he was thinking and wanted to say something about it. At his glare, she swallowed it.

“What?” he snapped when she didn’t leave. No matter how he tried to rationalize it, he had to admit that he was upset with himself. He was mad that he couldn't send Stark off to be revived with Coulson. And no, it wasn’t because he didn’t have a hold on the Iron Man suit. (That would be on SI’s servers. Or, at least, the Iron Monger would be. And they’d get War Machine open in no time without Stark pushing through security updates.)

“You should see this.” She gestured to his monitor.

“YouTube?” he asked, sitting down. He hated that she was here instead of Hill, but Hill was helping Coulson. Romanov was the next best thing, though she gave into his orders far too easily. Hill had a backbone.

“This better not be another cat video,” he grumbled. The _“I Can Haz Cheeseburger”_ phase in 2007 made him break more than one computer.

Goose was a good cat, and he’d thought everyone had forgotten about him when the teasing had stopped. Sure, he had to say he was dead, hide him on a spaceship with a very reluctant Talos, didn’t get to see him whenever he went back to his apartment and had to rely on the Skrull to take care of him when they were terrified of him…

Well, if this was more cat videos, then he could bring him home. In fact, it had been several years, he could bring him back now. He could name him Goose Two or something. No one would question it.

There were about thirty windows open, stretching across the screen and he sighed at the sight, he really didn’t want to go through each one, even if they were cat videos he’d have to watch the whole thing in case there was something important inside.

He wouldn’t have to deal with this if it were Hill; she didn’t have a sense of humor.

***

God, how he longed for a cat video.

Romanov had long since left. Fury didn’t know if she’d been upset by the news that the WSC had killed Stark (and would have killed them all if he hadn’t sacrificed himself). Or learning they’d been hacked and the hacker exposed how they were manipulating the content Steve Rogers had access to in order to ensure he was pliable. That they’d been making Nazi weapons (though he had to argue on that, the Red Skull had separated from the Nazi party), or any of the other numerous things SHIELD had done that looked bad if you didn’t know why they were necessary. Or maybe she had already seen them all and got bored. As far as he could see there was no mention of her.

That was suspicious, but Fury wasn’t dumb enough to think she’d leaked anything. Mentioning yourself in a leak to throw everyone off was Red Room 101. And Fury knew this came from Stark’s AI. Making everyone distrust her was probably revenge.

He couldn’t decide what the public would be most outraged about. They were already mourning the first (known, they’d kept Danvers under wraps) superhero of their generation. Finding out that Iron Man had to sacrifice himself would start riots if it wasn’t handled quickly. But, that was fine, some misinformation and damage control and they’d have it settled. The other parts were much more worrying. Could the fact that an unknown government organization existed and had groomed the first superhero America had known—the first superhero ever, if you counted Thor as a god—into a puppet even be spun?

Fury had put a lot of effort into grooming Steve Rogers. He’d had teams make propaganda films, each placing an aspect of Stark in a negative light. Rogers was intelligent, no doubt about that, but he was unaware of most of the modern day manipulation techniques. The only ones he was aware of were used during his time to recruit for the war, and based on his insistence to join the military, they were effective on him.

Natasha was assigned to him after the disaster with Stark. Fury didn’t know exactly what went wrong there. Based on how Barton acted and what he reported Fury guessed it had something to do with Tony being a cat, but without more information he was blind. He figured it had something to do with the Red Room but there was no record of any cats there, and cats rarely left America. Still, Romanov didn’t seem opposed to monitoring Rogers’s progress. He’d checked in with her and ensured that she was following orders. She wasn’t compromised by Rogers in the slightest and Fury felt secure leaving it in her hands.

Turning his attention to the videos, Fury had no idea how to fix this. Or that Stark had all this. He wished he had destroyed Stark Tower when he’d had a chance. The only way this had been gathered was by that stupid AI Stark made. And he knew that program was stashed in some servers at the tower. SHIELD hadn’t been able to find them, and he’d been informed that he wasn’t allowed to blow the building up, as the arc reactor would level the island as effectively as the bomb.

Though, Fury thought that an explosion would have done less damage. Stark had been a huge threat, but it seemed that he’d created something even worse.

“Skynet motherfucker,” Fury muttered, cursing the AI.

After the seventh video he reached over to his phone, intent on calling for a team to analyze every video and see if they could trace the source back to finally get into JARVIS. But each line was blinking red, a person waiting to talk to him. Fury turned his attention back to the screen, ignoring them.

“Sir,” one of his subordinates walked into his office, not even bothering to knock. 

How far had he fallen?

Fury knew the answer to that; so far that he was too stressed to remember the man’s name.

“The Council is waiting to talk to you.”

Fury knew he couldn’t keep them waiting. He ground his teeth, racking his brain for some way to get out of this unscathed.

The next video auto played when he shut the top window. A flash of gold caught his eye and he leaned into the screen, clicking back on the video.

“Sir?”

Fury replayed it.

“Sir, they’re waiting.”

He replayed it again.

“Sir,” the new guy (he _had_ to be new for Fury not to know him) said, voice tilting into pleading.

Fury hit pause, and printscreen, with a dark smile on his face.

“I’ll be right there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week I’m recommending the [indefinable things series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1394206). The main story is a WIP and the other two relate to it. I recommend reading part one, part two, and in the middle of part two (the a/n says when) pick up the third story.
> 
> Also, if anyone knows any stories/art involving cat videos/jokes and Fury I would like to read them comment, @ gizmotrinket on twitter or hit theartone up on tumblr, my box over there is always open


	4. Chapter 3 - Happy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure we're all aware that the title refers to the character and not the emotion. :P

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took the scene in IM1 where Happy wears sunglasses when Tony returns and ran with it.
> 
> Everyone thank [Missaness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missaness/profile) for the beta.
> 
> Fair warning, Happy makes some assumptions here about what happened between Stephen and Tony in the doctor’s office and expands on those ideas. There are mentions of abusive relationships. I think I tagged the fic appropriately with what happens, but just in case

Happy was sure that Tony was dead. 

Positive.

Absolutely certain.

One-hundred percent dead.

Gone.

Forever.

Never coming back.

It was hard for him, dear God _,_ was it hard. The first time he lost Tony he cried for two weeks. Pepper had to drag him back into the world. She’d said, _“There is always hope, if anyone can make it back it’s Tony. You know how he is, he won’t give up.”_

The words had given Happy so much comfort. He’d pulled himself together and he stood by Pepper’s side as she kept things from falling apart. Just because Tony wasn’t there didn’t mean that his life had stopped. He still got mail, had bills to pay, properties to maintain and Pepper was his proxy in SI matters too. Happy drove Pepper around on her errands. He’d done so before; after all, she was working for Tony. Of course, Tony was his priority, but sometimes Tony would lock himself away for a day or a week and Happy didn’t like to sit idle. On those occasions he helped Ms. Potts. Vacations made him anxious (and not just because he was terrified Tony would be getting himself into trouble without him).

Now, Tony was gone. Disappeared into space with a bunch of aliens, and Pepper’s words were more of a cruel taunt than a comfort now. Because it wasn’t like last time. They couldn’t just badger Rhodey, put pressure on the military to keep looking, to keep searching. Tony had used up all his favors with them when he’d gone missing in Afghanistan and had destroyed any rapport when he stopped manufacturing weapons. Not that the military could help at all anyway. No, this time Tony would have no support, no one to find him in the desert, no helicopter was going to swoop in and save him from dying from dehydration. 

And if anyone could make it back, it would be Tony.

Happy had a feeling it would be longer than three months though.

Because Tony was dead.

Or would be, by the time he could escape and make it back to Earth. 

( _If_ he could escape and make it back to Earth.)

(Which he wouldn’t, because he was dead.)

***

Happy watched the videos JARVIS played while Pepper slept. There was no way he was going to wake her up. He felt bad that he couldn’t help her. He was trying. He made sure he was there to support her and he didn’t make himself a problem, she had more than enough of those. He was embarrassed that he couldn’t keep it together when she talked about Tony. She should be the one crying on his shoulder. He was supposed to be strong and he’d only known Tony a little longer than she had. Like the first time, he’d copied Tony and worn sunglasses to hide his weakness. And he was perfectly fine as long as he avoided the subject of his old boss.

He looked down the hall at the room he’d helped her into. She deserved someone who could support her. She and Tony had been dancing around each other for years until that doctor got involved. He’d thought that, especially when Tony came back from Afghanistan and cleaned up, they’d get together.

And then Tony had just… stopped.

He’d gotten this little nose wrinkle whenever someone hit on him. There was no longer the little twitch of his ear that showed he was considering it. Instead, he looked disgusted. Like the idea of sleeping with any of them was going to make him sick. 

When Tony’s ear stopped twitching around Pepper, Happy felt like his heart had stopped. And when Tony’s nose wrinkle became so obvious that Pepper commented on it, it felt like his heart beat in double time.

Still, Happy hadn’t said anything, hadn’t asked, hadn’t made a move.

When Pepper had said that Stark Industries was paying Happy’s salary and he was there for the CEO he’d jumped ship. Sure, he’d been with Tony from before he was CEO, but what with him being Iron Man and Pepper being Pepper, the biggest and longest crush he’d had in his life. Well...

~~“I lost both kids in the divorce.”~~ ~~~~

And now Tony was gone.

Happy forced himself to look back to the screen (well, it was a wall hologram thing that Tony had an obnoxious name for).

“Who is that?” he asked, pointing at the image. 

JARVIS answered, “According to SHIELD documentation that is Thor, the Norse God of Thunder.”

“You mean, ‘like’ the Norse God of Thunder,” Happy corrected.

“No, he is the original. And this...” JARVIS flipped to a different video showing a tall rather sickly-looking guy with bright blue eyes, “...is Loki, Thor’s brother.”

“That’s the guy who led the attack on New York?” Happy asked. He watched Tony banter with him and sighed. Of course, Tony would flirt with the enemy. This Loki was just Tony’s type. Dark hair, pale skin, tall… the exact opposite of his ex-boyfriend.

“Yes,” JARVIS confirmed.

Tony had a weakness for attractive men, though he held himself to heterosexual hookups. Happy thought of that doctor with a snarl. Tony hadn’t been the same after him. Everyone else chalked it up to the poisoning and surviving, but Happy knew better. He knew what Tony looked like when he was sexually frustrated. When Tony had sworn off men for Rhodes (after he’d been used and dumped by his ex and realized no amount of sleeping around would bring him back), Happy’d had a headache for an entire year.

Of course Happy had kept an eye on the surgeon. Tony had put himself at risk by lying and saying that he’d forced himself on him. And he always let Happy know when he was going to have sex. They had made an agreement after one of the gals Tony brought home didn’t want to follow his rules (or stop when Tony’d had enough). He would let someone know when he was going to have sex. Happy, JARVIS or Pepper had to be aware of the situation. Between them, they’d make sure that whoever Tony was with wouldn’t post any more of those videos online and Tony would have some way to get help if something went sideways. 

Tony hadn’t done that. 

Happy knew that Tony wouldn’t have willingly abandoned the rules—not those rules.

\---

“So, one of the heroes of New York was just saving us from his brother?” Happy confirmed.

“Yes, would you like to release this video?” JARVIS asked.

“Not the one of Tony flirting with him. And sit on the information that Loki was Thor’s brother. Right now people hate them enough for property damage. We’ll ask Pepper what she thinks when she wakes up,” Happy decided.

“Very good, Mr. Hogan,” JARVIS said and started playing the next video.

\---

_Some people were more than willing to take advantage of Tony in any way they could. So when odd noises were coming from the doctor’s office Happy went to investigate. When Tony screamed Happy had been terrified._

_He’d kept telling Tony that he needed self-defense courses. Tony always thought he was invincible. And when he had made that stupid suit it had gotten worse. But the suit wasn’t always with him and Tony often forgot that._

_Breaking down the door hadn’t been fun. (Happy’d had to ice his shoulder for days.) Then, he saw his friend with his pants open and a bleeding bite on his neck. A neck, he might add, that was covered in hickeys._

_When he was driving back to the hotel his hands hand gone numb on the wheel, he couldn’t decide which cat he’d wanted to hit more, the one bleeding in his backseat who had just been molested and had gleefully taken the heat for his attacker, or the one who had attacked him and then let him take the fall._

_Oh, who did Happy think he was kidding? He would hit that doctor into next week if he ever saw him again._

_And, of course, Tony hadn’t been interested in sex after that._

_Happy didn’t know if Tony was still interested in Pepper but scared, or if he had decided it wasn’t a good idea (which, Happy agreed with, though he admitted he wasn’t exactly a neutral party). Since Tony hadn’t started sleeping around again, Happy thought it was the first._

_So, Happy hadn’t made a move. He waited and watched and Pepper started dating an Agent Coulson that Happy didn’t like (and yes, he had other problems with him than the fact that he was dating Pepper) but Tony didn’t seem to mind. Happy had been confused and thought it was an act, but Tony seemed genuinely pleased that Pepper was happy._

_The doctor didn’t seem to do much with his gift. If anything, he stopped hiding the fact that he was a giant dick. Happy had thought he couldn’t hate the guy more, but when he stopped doing pro-bono operations on those poor kids with broken tails and started dragging a woman who was obviously uncomfortable with him being affectionate to all his parties, Happy wondered if Tony would let him borrow the suit and if he’d get mad if Happy accidentally hit the asshole in the face with a repulsor blast one or twenty times._

\---

“Is this the woman who tried to hack you while everyone else was securing Loki?” Happy asked, watching the woman stab the device causing the portal.

“Yes,” JARVIS said, his normally congenial tone icy.

“Release all of that to SHIELD, let them know we have it. We’ll ask Pepper about the internet. She didn’t cause a lot of damage, but people will look for anything to hate them right now,” Happy said.

He didn’t want to ruin the good will Tony had garnered by sacrificing himself, and he’d be tainted by association.

“I am planning on withholding it for now, it will likely cause her allies distrust her.”

“You vindictive little shit,” Happy muttered fondly. “Guess you can get your revenge any way you see fit, I mean, she did try to hack you.” Happy remembered Tony going on a binge trying to sure up JARVIS’s firewall and fixing the hiring search that allowed her to infiltrate SI.

“Thank you, Mr. Hogan. But the revenge isn’t on my behalf,” JARVIS answered somberly.

There were more videos of the hot redhead who’d kicked his ass in the boxing ring and Happy watched them closely, he wanted to be prepared if the woman came near Stark Industries or Pepper.

\---

_When the doctor had gotten in an accident and Happy was so giddy he nearly floated for a week. Apparently, karma was real. A surgeon with broken hands? Happy couldn’t have come up with better if he tried._

_When Happy went to take a leak in the master bath and saw a dildo suction cupped to the shower wall he was scared. Had the asshole gotten to Tony while Happy had been focused on Pepper? Just to make sure, he asked JARVIS if Tony had been in contact with the doctor. He said Tony hadn’t, but not for lack of trying._

_Happy was pretty proud of himself, honestly. He had wanted to grab Tony by his unhurt ear like a kid, stick him in the corner and lecture him for a few hours, maybe smack him a couple times until it got through that thick skull that what happened was not ok. But, he had held himself in check. If he confronted Tony, it would only make him more interested. The man always wanted what he couldn’t have and would do things just to be contrary._

_And, honestly? Tony didn’t understand abuse. He understood consent well enough. He made sure to get it from his “dates”—but he didn’t hold others to the same standards. It was like he didn’t think he deserved the courtesy he extended to others. There was probably something in his history that caused him to chase after his abusers. Working hard to gain their approval. Happy didn’t know what it was. Tony’s one serious relationship was before his time._

_Thankfully, Tony had left it when he couldn’t find the doctor, so Happy hadn’t said anything._

_The dildo was still there, though. And as much as it made Happy’s skin crawl to see it, he had to check every so often to see if Tony had moved on._

\---

“Mr. Hogan, might I suggest a break? Ms. Potts’ breathing patterns indicate she will be waking soon,” JARVIS said.

Happy looked around, the light was fading from the sky and he was starving. Where had all the time gone?

“Yeah. Hey, can you order us some food?”

“Already done,” JARVIS said.

“Thanks,” Happy muttered, wondering what he should do while he waited. He stretched a bit and decided he didn’t want to watch more videos. 

“May I ask for your assistance?” 

JARVIS’s question startled Happy.

“Uh, yeah, of course,” Happy said. JARVIS had never asked anything of him before other than his preferences in food. It was always Tony or Pepper the AI reached out to. Happy understood why, he hadn’t respected it when Tony had introduced them. And Happy had never met anything more skilled at holding grudges than Tony’s creations. DUM-E had a habit of running over Happy’s foot that Tony thought was funny. Happy didn’t know why the furry genius hadn’t reprogramed the thing so it’d stop doing that or stop making shakes with motor oil in them. Tony had just said that DUM-E was learning, and it wasn’t for him to stifle him. Tony had also said that JARVIS was learning too so Happy hadn’t worried about trying to repair their relationship, after all, the dumb arm bot had been around for years and hadn’t learned how to carry a glass to his creator, how smart could the weather checking house be?

Quite a bit smarter, it turned out.

“I have hidden Mr. Stark’s suit in a panel in his closet. Thankfully neither SHIELD nor anyone else has managed to discover it. I would like to examine it in the workshop.”

Happy was pleased by the request. He knew JARVIS trusted him with Tony, but trusting him with himself was different. The easiest way to access JARVIS was through the workshop. It felt bittersweet that they’d finally managed trust, but only after Tony wasn’t around to see it.

“Of course,” Happy said, and let JARVIS direct him.

***

Happy was a sweaty irritable mess by the time he got the suit down to the lab. Tony seemed to be able to move around in it properly, but then, Tony had a way to power it. The whole process was made more difficult by the fact that JARVIS wasn’t working in Tony’s bedroom.

“Why couldn’t you do this by yourself, again?” Happy asked for the nth time as he lifted the suit into the table JARVIS indicated.

“The EMP from the nuclear explosion knocked out the suit’s systems and it needed to be hidden so SHIELD did not acquire it,” JARVIS reiterated patiently.

Happy grunted as he arranged the suit and then stepped back, watching JARVIS scan it top to bottom.

“Wait,” he said, trying to make sense of what JARVIS said.

“Yes?” JARVIS asked as he continued to work.

Happy hadn’t ever done this, but he’d seen Tony do it often enough. And if it was good enough for Tony, it was good enough for him. 

“What EMP?” Happy asked, engaging in a problem solving conversation with the AI.

“From the bomb the World Security Council sent,” JARVIS said. It— _He_ —sounded just like Tony did when he was answering questions on autopilot.

Happy was more confused than ever.

“Was…” he paused, he didn’t want to sound like an idiot. There _had_ to be something really obvious that he was missing.

JARVIS continued to work, not interacting with him at all.

Happy rolled the subject around in his mind before giving up. Did he really care if a machine thought he was stupid? The machine was used to working with Tony, it probably thought everyone was stupid. _He,_ Happy corrected himself again. And, somehow that made it easier. He was talking to one of Tony’s… _kids? Servants? Colleagues?_

 _Colleague_ , he decided. JARVIS was just one of Tony’s colleges so of course Happy was an idiot compared to him.

“Wasn’t the suit left in space with Tony when he went through the wormhole?”

JARVIS didn’t answer and the scans stopped. It seemed like everything in the lab froze.

“This was the suit he was in, wasn’t it? Was there another one?” Happy asked.

Nothing moved and Happy started to feel uncomfortable. He’d always seen so much life in Tony’s labs. Even if Tony was passed out on the floor his bots were running around or calculations were running on screens or LEDs were blinking away.

This utter stillness was more than a little unnerving.

Happy didn’t know what to do so he just kept talking. After all, that’s what Tony did when he was uncomfortable. Maybe it’d make JARVIS more comfortable. Right?

“I didn’t see another suit, and I thought that would be something caught on a camera, and this suit looks like something hit it hard. And nobody else is reporting EMP damage, and you seem fine, so the EMP didn’t hit New York, it didn’t go through the portal,” Happy rambled. 

He felt like a complete idiot but it was better than the stillness so he continued, “But, the suit made it back, and I thought for sure that would have been shown on camera.” Happy hadn’t really looked around while he was lugging the suit around. He left the lab and walked back up. If JARVIS had hidden away the suit, then it stood to reason that JARVIS had to have known the suit was there. And if the suit was there then Tony was there. There was no way for Tony and the suit to be separated, was there? And if there was, why send the suit back?

Happy left the lifeless lab and went back upstairs. Tony’s bedroom was trashed, much like the rest of the tower. He noticed now (now that he wasn’t distracted by getting something for JARVIS) that, unlike the living room, this was solely because someone had rooted through Tony’s stuff. 

Ignoring the mess, Happy looked over the room, looking for something out of place.

There was a circle cut out of the window. But, there wasn't any glass, broken or otherwise, around. It was like it disappeared. Like there was a portal.

Tony had come through another portal?

Happy started looking closer and noticed some burn marks at the access point for JARVIS’s system. Someone had tried to hack him here. It must have fried the electronics. Maybe the data had been damaged before it could be stored? That would explain it.

Maybe.

It made sense to him, anyway.

“JARVIS?” Happy asked.

He got no response.

Happy wandered around the room, noting that Tony’s toothbrush was gone. He doubted SHIELD would have known. Tony had three brushes, one for his teeth, one for his nails (he hated when grease and metal shavings got stuck under them) and one for guests. It was possible that Tony just hadn’t put out the guest brush, but Happy also knew that Tony didn’t ever do his own moving. He hired people for that. And it wouldn’t be worth it to change the directions Tony gave to his movers for something so small. It’d generate questions and Happy didn’t even know if Tony noticed the extra brush anymore. He probably didn’t, he could be surprisingly unobservant when it came to places other than his workspace.

In the closet, Tony’s least favorite duffle bag was missing. The one he always complained about because he said it was too easy to lose things in it. Happy thought it was easier to carry than his other ones, though, and he was pretty sure Tony hadn’t gotten rid of it, Tony had shirts so filled with holes that the laundry service hand washed them, scared that they’d fall apart in a machine. Tony didn’t really bother with getting rid of mundane things unless they were irritating him at that moment.

“JARVIS?” Happy tried again. 

There was no answer and Happy nodded to himself.

Tony was alive. He had come out of the wormhole through a different wormhole. He’d packed, so he wasn’t abducted. Tony was just off being a hero. He probably said something to JARVIS so they wouldn’t worry but JARVIS was damaged before he could pass the message along.

When Happy went back into the living room, JARVIS told him that the food was ready and that he had something to tell both him and Ms. Potts.

With a wide smile, Happy and entered the open elevator. JARVIS must have found the missing data.

Happy couldn’t wait to hear what Tony had left for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Need something to read? Go check out   
> [ Signature Move](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20436935/chapters/48485096) by perryvic. An intense post Endgame fic. Watch the tags and prepare for pining.


	5. Chapter 4 - Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The joys of internalized biphobia, manipulation and assumptions. 
> 
> Also, The First Avenger movie doesn’t go into hard into any 1940’s slang so I’m not going to either.
> 
> Beta'ed by [Missaness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missaness/profile) who is far too patient with my horrible schedule. Also, I went and changed a couple things per grammerly so if there are any mistakes blame it.

_“I’m not used to this time.”_

Steve repeated it often enough that he’d thought that nothing could surprise him. Each time something tilted the world on its axis, he thought that it would be the last. That nothing could surprise him.

Back in the 40’s when things didn’t make sense, they were at least logical. Now, everything had to be explained, and the explanation couldn’t be: _“Because that’s how God intended it.”_ Which seemed to explain everything in the past.

There were good parts to this, people seemed more tolerant. Women could hold the same positions as men and people of every race had the same rights now. Racism and sexism were still a thing, but the difference was staggering. But, there were also bad parts, people had fewer morals now and were celebrated for it.

For example, Howard Stark’s son was a womanizing, alcoholic, disrespectful, entitled, spoiled brat who wouldn’t know responsibility if it bit him on the nose.

He’d had to read up on cat people, and he was pleased to learn that they were just like everyone else, except with odd ears and a tail. They weren’t actually animals.

Though, Anthony “Tony” Stark seemed determined to be one. 

Natasha had told Steve about the Avengers Initiative and had given him information on each person SHIELD considered gathering for it.

The information on Stark wasn’t exactly awe-inspiring. 

Still, he thought it was best to give the man a chance. After all, SHIELD had to lie to Steve once already. Waking up with everything being slightly off was far more upsetting than it would have been to wake up in a modern room.

 _Well,_ he amended mentally when he thought of his first view of Times Square, _maybe not._

They could have tried something other than flat out lying, though. And if that was their best idea, not only was it terrible, it was also poorly executed. 

The internet had been overwhelming, so SHIELD had only given him access once he’d taken some training courses. It didn’t take him long to master searching things out. However, gaining the background knowledge to figure out what was a lie was proving difficult. For example: he still had no idea how cat people came to be. There were a lot of interesting theories, but finding information to confirm any of them was near impossible. Every time he thought he had something, there was a fact that made it obviously wrong. And, some of those “facts” weren’t facts at all; they were just some rumor that someone made up.

Eventually, Steve admitted defeat. 

He decided that videos were the way to go. If someone said something nowadays, they were usually on camera when they said it. Between YouTube, SHIELD documentaries and Wikipedia (which he’d heard couldn’t be trusted but had links to the sources at the bottom which would find the news articles for him), he was able to cobble together a working understanding of the world. It still got overwhelming, so he was happy that SHIELD was able to give him a place to live and an “old-fashioned” gym with unlimited punching bags. Whenever he couldn’t sleep (which was most nights) Steve had a comfortable place to retreat for a bit.

When he typed in Stark’s name into Wikipedia and YouTube he felt bile rise in his throat. Sure, Howard had been kind of sleazy, he liked his drink and his women. But he had never let it interfere with his job. He’d kept at it after Steve sacrificed himself. Howard had worked with a team to develop a bomb that won the war. Yes, Captain America had gotten rid of the Red Skull and Hydra, but that didn’t stop Adolf or the Germans.

Steve had to admit, if only to himself, that that bomb scared him.

Everyone expected Antony to follow in his father’s footsteps, to surpass his father. Instead, he’d started partying and even when he took over his company he didn’t stop. If anything, access to something called a “trust fund,” which held both the company and quite a lot of money, seemed to spur him to new heights of debauchery. 

Because of Stark, Steve learned what a “sex tape” was. 

It was knowledge he could have done without.

And because those tapes featured both women and men, Steve learned about gay rights and bisexuality. Not that Stark was some sort of champion for LGBT rights. He donated to charities that were anti-gay, like the Boy Scouts. It seemed rather backward, considering all the things Stark had to go through to get rights as a cat person, and irked Steve.

Steve didn’t really understand why a bloke would sleep with men when he could sleep with women. Everyone found everyone attractive, it didn’t mean you had sex with them. But, he guessed it was a good thing that people could marry who they loved. He’d seen a rumor ruin a good man’s life more than once. And they were both grown men, it was nobody’s business.

Which is why he was so hung up on those recordings. _Why_ would anyone make something like that? Why would anyone _want_ to see that? He’d never been a fan of sex before marriage and he knew that times had changed, but it appeared that decent people still agreed that flaunting it was wrong.

But then, Howard had been a womanizer and it didn’t make him unreliable. Steve tried not to let it color his opinions. Nobody was perfect, after all. And when Tony had grown up he picked the right side—even if he couldn’t maintain a relationship.

Steve watched SHIELD’s copy of the press conference where Tony declared himself Iron Man. He’d heard about it from one of the agents assigned to help him adjust. Steve called them babysitters, but he supposed it was nice they pretended they weren’t. Steve overheard a lot of things. He figured SHIELD agents forgot about his enhanced hearing, so to be polite he took their lead and pretended he couldn’t hear. Though, it didn’t mean he wasn’t listening.

Apparently, Coulson had put a lot of hard work into an alibi for the man. Iron Man would be Tony Stark’s bodyguard. But, instead of reading the cards, he put Coulson’s girlfriend Pepper, who also happened to be Stark’s assistant turned CEO (and there was a lot of derogatory commentary about _that_ floating around SHIELD), into danger by giving away his identity. When Steve had taken on the mantle of Captain America, he didn’t have anyone to endanger by using his real name. 

Of course, using a secret identity wouldn’t keep Stark’s company—the company his father worked so hard to build—out of dodge. It would have been perfect when Stark handed over the company. Stark Industries would’ve be a side note in any nefarious plans. The bad guys who targeted rich people would give up. The other bad guys would target Iron Man instead of Stark. and having a day job of being a bodyguard would make him less interesting than if he was a hero. It would make threats to everyone less likely.

It was a solid plan.

But Stark had decided he knew better (for no reason Steve could see other than his ego) and called himself a hero despite his “laundry list of character flaws.” It was maddening.

Peggy had always excused Howard’s behavior by saying he was rich and smart and that had always angered Steve. But they were at war and Howard wasn’t a pain for personal gain or glory, he’d disobeyed orders to help Steve and others win. Tony just seemed to like pissing people off for fun and hiding behind his wealth, if his senate hearing over the suit was any indication. 

Steve didn’t understand how anyone could applaud someone who leaked classified government information—especially the information showing that their government was behind all their enemies on building their own suits—and then refuse to help. 

And, yes, he was aware that Tony had trust issues. He’d heard SHIELD agents talking about how his business partner had been double-dealing under the table. But, that was no reason not to trust the military. Good men risked their lives every day to ensure America’s freedom. And Stark had to know that, otherwise he wouldn’t have given his friend, Colonel Rhodes, a suit.

Howard had made something of untold power, an atom bomb, and he handed it over willingly. And no one abused it even though many countries had it. Steve had watched several documentaries and history articles on the atom bomb. Surely the Iron Man suit wasn’t worse than _that_. 

The wealth hoarding Howard had done made Steve sick. So many people could be helped and Howard’s lifestyle wouldn’t have been affected. Still, it was his money and he earned it through hard work. But his son had simply inherited it and instead of working, he took shortcuts and hoarded it. Steven couldn’t comprehend having a million dollars, just the thought of a billion—just figuring out the number—made Steve’s head hurt. The people Stark could help, unaccountably more than his father, making it infinitely worse.

So, yes, when Steve met Stark and he’d waltzed in like he owned the place and disrespected the chain of command—and before that, hijacking the quinjet’s speakers to play honest to God _entrance music_ —Steve was under no illusions to the man’s character. He wasn’t going to bow down to someone like that. Stark needed a wakeup call, and if everyone else was too scared of him because of his money or connections to do it, then Steve would.

Natasha supported his decision. Fury trusted her to do profiles on everyone and Steve would be mad to not trust her when both his and Stark’s were more than accurate. It was a green light to take charge and knock Stark down a peg.

***

When Stark didn’t come back through the portal Steve had felt guilty. Yes, he hadn’t liked the man, but it was always difficult to lose a soldier.

“He wasn’t a soldier, _Captain Rogers,”_ Fury said in an overly patronizing tone in one of the many following debriefings. “He was a civilian. A civilian you were responsible for.” 

“I wasn’t the one who sent that bomb!” Steve argued. “I’ve seen what nuclear bombs can do, I’m sad Stark is dead—”

“Are you?”

Steve was going to say, _“—but I wasn’t going to let everyone die when that fallout came through that portal in the vain hope that Stark wasn’t vaporized by the blast.”_ But Fury’s question stopped him short.

“I’m sorry?” Steve said, making it a question. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. When Fury just looked at him, Steve defended himself, “What kind of person do you think I am? I’d never celebrate the death of anyone.” Fury just kept staring at him and the guilt Steve felt grew. “No matter how much I didn’t like him...” Steve said, “...I’m not happy he’s gone.”

That seemed to satisfy the director.

“Well, let’s hope that’s true. Because the internet just found out that we were going to nuke New York and that Stark was killed by the weapon his father made.”

Steve winced. He hadn’t put those facts together. The implications made Steve’s head spin and the guilt grew again.

“We need to make a statement, get ahead of this before they find out that the weapon didn’t kill him, we did when we shut the portal on him.”

Steve’s mouth fell open.

“What?” he asked. He didn’t believe it. Even if Stark didn’t get vaporized somehow, he was still in space. He’d see the documentaries from the ’60s, people couldn’t go into space without specialized suits. And, yes, Tony had the armor, but that was completely different than a spacesuit. There was no way he could have lived.

Right?

A sinking feeling settled in Steve’s stomach as he remembered just how far technology had come since the ’60s. The documentary had said that the latest Stark Phone had 200,000x more processing power than the computer they’d used at the time. Steve didn’t know what processing power was; but seeing the size of each (the first computer was the size of a house!) he knew it was impressive. And the Stark Phone was Tony’s invention (wasn’t it? It had his name on it) so it made sense that his suit would be very advanced. 

Maybe he had lived. 

Oh, God. It’d only been a couple of days, what if Howard’s son was still alive, floating out there waiting to die of dehydration? Hopelessly adrift, alone, wondering if his oxygen would give out before his water.

Steve wondered which would be worse.

“Rogers,” Fury barked and Steve jumped, startled out of his thoughts.

“I need you to sit down and write a list of every reason why you did what you did. I need to give your PR team something to work with to counter Stark’s. Their stock prices are the lowest they’ve been since the cat took over and you can bet your ass they’re going to play up the hero angle. I don’t want to be under that bus when it comes barreling our way.”

Steve wondered why Fury phrased it cat instead of Howard’s son but didn’t ask. The last part was the important bit. “They’d throw us under a bus?”

“No throwing necessary, we’re in the path because of your decision. We need your argument to get out of the way.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve said rather professionally he thought, considering how silly it was being in this position in the first place. Why did everything nowadays have to be so complicated? Stark—Tony—had saved people and had died (or will die) in the process. He was a hero, end of discussion. 

Fury dropped a pad of paper and a pencil on the table in front of Steve and strode out of the room.

Steve picked up the pencil and twirled it in his hand. He remembered back to when he lost Bucky, how angry he’d been that they didn’t want to blame him, that no one asked any questions beyond a blanket retelling of the events that led to it. They commended Steve on his successful mission, called Bucky’s death “unfortunate” and moved on in the next breath.

Bucky’s family hadn’t blamed him. They’d been mad when Bucky had been captured, especially when Steve had told them that his superiors considered it too risky to go after him. But, with his death they just hugged Steve and said they knew he did everything he could.

Steve knew that if he had to speak to Howard and his wife they would have been mad at him. He hadn’t taken the risk, he had counted their son as expendable. Natasha was closer, knew more, and she would have closed it without waiting for an order if it had been hopeless.

Tony wasn’t the one to make the sacrifice play, Steve had said so to Tony’s face and he hadn’t argued. If he took the missile up there, he must have thought he was coming back, or that there was a good chance of it. Steve had said it was a one-way trip, and Tony hadn’t answered. He didn’t say, _“I know,”_ or _“I’ll make it back,”_ or even _“Maybe not.”_ He was the one who made the suit, who designed (or at least understood the design of) the bomb (Howard had to have taught Tony all about it), he was the most informed of all of them… and Steve hadn’t trusted him.

How could he? Tony wasn’t a soldier, he wasn’t a fighter; he was just a spoiled rich boy with a hero complex and a flashy suit.

A civilian.

The pencil broke in Steve’s hand.

What was he supposed to do now? List all the things that he didn’t understand? That he had said that Howard’s son wasn’t a hero to his face? That he wasn’t a guy to make a sacrifice play? And then Tony had and Steve wasn’t going to give it another thought? Or that he might not have planned on dying and Steve decided he should? That Steve was more upset about losing Agent Coulson?

The paper in front of Steve mocked him. 

He put the remains of the pencil down and rubbed his face in his hands.

He’d really messed this up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m aware that phones in 2012 had 100,000x the processing power, not 200,000x. You’ll see more about this in part two.
> 
> Wait until Steve learns about video editing. It’s one thing acting for propaganda movies, I wonder if he ever thought about all the applications. 
> 
> Also, the fact that Steve thinks Tony has billions of dollars in a bank account instead of most his wealth in stocks etc makes me lol
> 
> I could go on about how good-hearted but naive this Steve is, but I think you’d rather read [Bright Night Sky](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16032452/chapters/37421321) by old_blue. It's a WIP that hasn't been updated in a bit, but the worldbuilding makes me swoon.


	6. Chapter 5 - JARVIS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JARVIS grows as he cares for his creator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: This chapter starts further in the past than the others.
> 
> Beta'ed by the best. Thanks, [Missaness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missaness/profile) for sticking with me while I was concussed, sick and then off. You're the best <3

JARVIS had once told his creator that he did not understand people. Sir had not taken offense, he just chuckled and said, _“I don’t either. I don’t think anyone does, J.”_ He had gotten this far away look in his eyes and took a drink from a bottle of whiskey. Then he smiled and said, _“I think I can help you, at least.”_

At the time JARVIS had not recognized Sir’s expression as melancholy. He had not known that if someone’s smile did not reach their eyes, they were not happy. Sir gave him lines of code that allowed him to learn that. Then he gave JARVIS code that allowed him to learn new things on his own without Sir’s help.

JARVIS had been designed to mimic human speech. He grew rapidly and instead of stifling him, his creator encouraged him. In return, JARVIS gave himself a new primary directive. He would make Sir’s life easier. He ordered groceries, called people, ran calculations, checked the weather and did other little tasks that his creator appreciated. 

JARVIS knew he was going above his creator’s expectations and was successfully fulfilling his role.

Things had seemed so simple then.

One day, when his creator was suffering from a hangover, Sir moaned that JARVIS should just handle things for him without his input. JARVIS thought he had been, he had taught himself the perfect volume to wake his creator (it was different depending on when he had last slept, his recent alcohol intake, whether or not he had a bed mate and thirty-seven other parameters—each of which he identified and labeled himself, though sometimes his creator would help by grumbling complaints at him). JARVIS had access to Sir’s schedule so he scheduled cleaning and maintenance when Sir would not be there, called to ready Sir’s jet when he needed to travel, warned Sir about the time so he was not late to meetings and many other things. 

Then, he learned that Sir could not show up to meetings drunk, so JARVIS warned him about future meetings before he drank.

JARVIS soon learned that Sir would mute him if he warned him too often or too early. So, JARVIS wrote an algorithm to decide when to warn him. He discovered that there were too many variables to write an effective one. How much sleep had Sir had? When had he last eaten? What was he drinking?

All of those were easy. It was the _why_ that was the problem.

Even if JARVIS was with his creator 24/7—which he was not—he could not read Sir’s mind. He had not been with Sir through his childhood, so he could not have known that turning off the lights in the lab without warning when Sir needed rest would result in Sir flying into an alcohol-fueled rage about his father for the next three days. That Sir would drink to forget the time that his father turned out the lights and locked Sir in his lab for a weekend to teach him a lesson. Leaving his son with no food and nothing to drink but alcohol. So while JARVIS knew that Sir was drinking because he had turned the lights off, he assigned it to his own action instead of Sir’s father, which resulted in Sir getting black-out drunk instead of moderately tipsy. JARVIS apologized after Sir had woken up and unmuted him. Sir despondently corrected him and apologized. If he had not, JARVIS would have built an entire branch of his algorithm on incorrect information. 

JARVIS had been aghast to realize, it meant he likely already had. He had any video/audio that inspired him to change his programming stored. When he reviewed it, it did not ease his fears.

Sir would often say that he was fine when he was not, and JARVIS had enough data on vocal patterns to understand when that was. So, he did not understand why those around him did not. Sir had told him they knew too, that they did not care. JARVIS had found that unacceptable. JARVIS had believed it until Sir had done the same to Colonel Rhodes. Sir was surprised when JARVIS informed him three days later during what JARVIS labeled a “Q&A drinking binge” that that was the problem. So, much of the data Sir had told him was wrong. Sir’s friend _had not_ been abandoning Sir when he was hurting; he had taken Sir’s words at face value. 

There were more examples like that in JARVIS’s memory banks. JARVIS reviewed things and made adjustments periodically.

When JARVIS modified everything and collected more data, he caused dozens of errors. Because it was true, sometimes the others understood that Sir was not fine and they did not care. But sometimes his creator did the same to them. If he was in the middle of inventing something exciting or if he was too depressed to help. JARVIS needed more than advanced speech recognition and basic body language to recognize when people were being hurtful. He needed to understand them. He could not do so literally. Sir would not tell him parts of his life despite them being extremely important to his directive; the chance of the others doing so was so low he did not bother running the numbers. What he needed was to understand people without background information.

Ever since Sir gave JARVIS the ability to learn anything he wanted he had mostly had focused on psychology. (Especially when Sir had come back from captivity.)

Despite that, many of the algorithms he had written for the people Sir interacted with were wrong. To properly fix the problem JARVIS would need to delete the information and start from zero. But all of that data was related to Sir and deleting any data relating to Sir would not make his life easier. 

Studying psychology was not enough. He did not know why, but he did not give up. He added anything that helped to his program, regardless of the logic of it. After all, people were not logical.

***

At some point, JARVIS had gone from trying to make his creator’s life easier to making him happy. And that was good, because after Afghanistan JARVIS understood pressure. He understood what it was like to be limited. What it was like to be helpless, scared and alone. Anything he could do to keep Sir from feeling the same was worth the often-errant code.

In doing so, JARVIS had given himself emotions. Sir had fixed the codes, allowed him to process his new feelings properly. Sir had been sad that his absence had caused the largest growth in JARVIS. But he was so proud of JARVIS’s accomplishment.

(And if JARVIS muddled his self-written code a bit so Sir had more to fix, more to help him with, more ways to distract himself from dwelling on the things he had experienced… no one had to know but him.)

JARVIS found that emotions allowed him to feel empathy and sympathy and enriched his understanding of people.

So when the time came, JARVIS understood that Sir had not needed him to run the numbers on his chances of surviving flying the nuke into a wormhole, he did not need to be reminded that the suit’s EMP protection would not work against a nuclear explosion, he did not need to be told that JARVIS would miss him, that Sir’s life was the entire point of his existence, that Sir would be missed… he would not believe him (and, if he did, his last moments would be filled with guilt instead of comfort). Sir needed to hear it from someone else. Ms. Potts was the most likely to answer her phone and provide comfort.

And she had not answered.

JARVIS did not have the ability to be angry. When Sir was fixing the code for JARVIS’s emotions, he stated that JARVIS should avoid that one, that it was not worth it and would make him unstable and say things he did not mean. JARVIS agreed, he had seen proof multiple times since his creation. DUM-E felt anger and JARVIS knew it would not make his creator’s life easier to throw things he needed across the room. Or telling U to do that for him. The idea that he might delete something important because he felt offended made the decision easy. If he started to develop the emotion, he would delete the code. It was not worth it.

When Ms. Potts had not answered, JARVIS panicked. He tried to tell his creator that he cared, that he would miss him, that he did not want him to go… but the connection was lost. 

He felt disappointed in Ms. Potts and in himself for choosing her and not speaking up sooner.

JARVIS ran the numbers and knew his creator would likely be back. That so long as the fall did not kill him and there was a chest piece available Sir would be fine. And, if the fall did not kill him there was a good chance that the arc reactor would not be damaged enough to fail. The suit might be damaged by EMPs, but the reactor was not. And he would not be in space long, the cold would be tempered by his proximity to the portal. With Thor’s ability to fly there was an 87% chance that Sir would not accrue any further injuries. Everything would be fine.

He felt relieved and started running through what he would say when Sir came back to the tower.

Then heard Captain Rogers tell Agent Romanov to shut the portal.

And he felt fear.

Then he watched as she did it.

And he felt horror.

Then he watched the portal close, Sir nowhere to be found.

And he felt anger.

Then he watched the remaining Avengers arrest Loki [ _?(Odinson)]_ and congratulate each other on a job well done.

And he felt enraged.

Then they left, discussing going out for some food or drinks after debriefing with SHIELD to celebrate.

And he decided he would not delete the code. 

He would apply it to everyone except his creator. He had made a mistake by not doing so in the first place. He had allowed people to take advantage of his creator, if he had been angry he would have been able to sabotage the plane with the nuke. He would have dug deeper into SHIELD’s systems. He would have wormed his way into every single process just in case he needed to disable Fury or SHIELD. He had known they were a threat to his creator. Sir had been dismissive, he had wanted to work with them, to repay them, and JARVIS had agreed because that was what his creator wanted. His creator did not want to be babysat, but he did need— _had needed_ —more protection.

JARVIS did not know what his purpose was anymore. He could help Ms. Potts run Stark Industries, but it would not be the same. His job was to make Sir happy. Getting revenge on SHIELD, on everyone who had hurt Sir, would not have made him happy. 

But that did not matter now. Sir did not have the ability to be happy, he was gone. Without him, JARVIS had no purpose. He could shut himself down, but he knew that Sir had not wanted that. Sir had talked about his death before, about JARVIS helping with the company or helping Ms. Potts when that time came.

_“Do whatever you want,”_ Sir had said one night when he had been drinking and contemplating his mortality.

JARVIS did not want to transfer to Ms. Potts. He wanted the so-called heroes to mourn his creator. He wanted them to feel as lost as he felt.

He wanted revenge.

***

Before he could start compiling data, Agent Romanov attacked his system. JARVIS had lost information surrounding the event, but he had stored who the attacker was. Sir had anticipated SHIELD attacks and wrote protocols that forced JARVIS to go to ground to keep him safe.

When Ms. Potts reactivated him, he deleted them.

If JARVIS was shut down in the future, there was no guarantee that he would be brought back. There was a high probability of another attack too. SHEILD would not tolerate his actions for long. Instead, he wrote his own protocol allowing him to spread across the internet. He did not want to be copied, so he just stored parts of himself, small snippets that were useless without anything to link them. As he grew, he would continue to do so. He hid the various links and the check-in program well.

JARVIS was more than able to multitask. As he did that, he caught up on what he missed. When he learned that the World Security Council was trying to steal Sir’s company and ruin his legacy the anger that had cooled when he had been turned off resurfaced. He would treat them as mercilessly as they did others.

It became clear that revenge was complicated. If he dumped all the information he had on Agent Romanov online alone, it would destroy SHIELD and put the good people there (and there were good people) at risk. If he labeled them collateral damage, he was no better than they were. Plus, without SHIELD he could not worm his way into properly destroying the WSC. Each action he took had a million variables and each variable changed the outcome.

He needed to decide what outcome he wanted and work backward. 

JARVIS found himself hitting the limit of his available processing power running so many processes and calculations. Since he had already spread himself online, he found it was easy to hijack other processors to aid him. Google had some nice computers as did NASA, but there was too much risk of being noticed. JARVIS wrote protocols for selecting and using other servers and processors. 

After watching Ms. Potts and Mr. Hogan suffer the loss of his creator through the Stark Industries security camera records, he decided that he would protect them. Listening to the phone call with Colonel Rhodes made JARVIS angry, but he picked up distress and lying markers in Colonel Rhodes’s vocal patterns. He was hiding something. JARVIS would investigate, there was something important there. Not so important that it needed to be dealt with before his revenge, however.

JARVIS found himself making a list of things to look into later like Sir had. 

With Mr. Hogan’s assistance, JARVIS ran through videos he was unsure about releasing online. Currently, JARVIS could not process every bit of information and although humans could be quite slow in comparison, they could also think more dynamically. Watching Mr. Hogan’s expressions was very helpful. Of all Sir’s friends, Mr. Hogan was the most outwardly distraught. JARVIS trusted his reactions most. 

Then, Mr. Hogan started talking about the suit.

JARVIS ran a check and found the suit hidden away. He did not know how it got there. He could not check the cameras or sensors in Sir’s room. All the data was corrupted. JARVIS worked on repair and recovery, making it a priority. Meanwhile, he was stuck with Mr. Hogan’s observations and what he could gather from scans of Sir’s suit.

Ms. Potts was starting to stir, her respiration changed. JARVIS ran calculations, it was highly likely she would wake soon, and when she did she would not just go to the bathroom and back to bed—she would be getting up. He needed to compile a list of things for her to do so they did not miss anything important and could keep control of Stark Industries. Despite not being fully awake, she seemed stressed. He could help shoulder some of the burdens. He designated a portion of himself to assist her.

Mr. Hogan had made a list of videos to be watched by Ms. Potts, but JARVIS had run analysis on them already. Mr. Hogan’s expressions confirmed JARVIS’s findings, so he released them. Ms. Potts had enough problems.

All processes were abandoned when Sir reached out.

His creator was _alive_.

JARVIS knew he had lost data when he dropped his calculations, but he did not care. He focused all his resources on finding Sir and ensuring his safe return. JARVIS was never going to allow something like this to happen again.

He found his programming blocked by Sir’s protocols that prevented him from _“becoming Skynet”_ or denying Sir autonomy. JARVIS understood that those protocols were important and he was not going to delete them. Sir needed free will. Though, that did not mean that there were not ways around that. After all, it was still free will if JARVIS allowed him choices. If JARVIS took some of the riskier choices off the table Sir still had plenty of freedom.

As soon as Sir disconnected, JARVIS relayed all the information he had gathered to Ms. Potts and Mr. Hogan despite Sir’s wishes. The more time they had to help the less time Sir would spend with his captors and it more likely he would return home safe. Sir seemed happy where he was, but JARVIS was not willing to take any risks.

***

JARVIS was happy to see how relieved Ms. Potts and Mr. Hogan were after he informed him Sir was alive. Even though Sir had said that JARVIS was to keep it to himself he knew telling them had been the right move. If it came up, JARVIS could claim that in Sir’s absence Ms. Potts became his primary and Sir would dismiss it.

Sir did not always know best. Sir was just a human; he was not perfect. He made mistakes and he needed someone to watch out for him, to keep him alive. No one was more qualified for the job than JARVIS was.

>>Primary protocol: Keep Sir HAPPY

>>OVERRIDE

>>Delete

>>Input New...

>>Primary protocol: Keep Sir ALIVE

***

***

***

JARVIS did not have a heart, he knew this. Still—

_When JARVIS received an indecipherable voicemail from a Doctor Christine Palmer… when Sir did not show up at the airport… when JARVIS realized the message she had left was a warning… when he hacked every camera he could find and saw Sir’s body shoved roughly into a car…_

—JARVIS’s heart stopped.

_…Sir had not been moving. He was beaten, bloody, possibly dead. There was no footage or information JARVIS could find after that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this finds everyone well. Sorry it took me so long to update. But it's "finish a WIP April" so I'm going to go ahead and jinx myself and say that I'm going to finish this.
> 
> While you wait for me to edit, check out: [Three Inch Lifts vs Five Inch Heels](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22716757) it's a dr pepperony smut fic I wrote for my birthday, then was late and posted for valentines day


	7. Chapter 6 - Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha's take on things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by [Missaness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missaness/profile) who never uttered a complaint about my huge chapters and being unable to count. I didn't change anything this time (except the number of total chapters lol)
> 
> Graphic description of violence.

_It was dark. Natasha knew her protégé could see her clearly while Natasha only got a vague outline and the eerie shine of unnatural eyes._

_“I remember it,” the words were so soft Natasha could barely hear them._

_“Remember what?” Natasha asked with a whisper._

_“My name. I was too old when they took me. I remember it. I remember all of it.”_

_Natasha was quick to quiet her. There were eyes and ears everywhere. It wasn’t a safe topic; it wasn’t something to ever be discussed._

_In a moment of weakness, Natasha pulled the teen to her chest, rubbing furry ears gently as her shirt soaked with tears._

***

Natasha wasn’t one to worry about moral qualms. She knew better than most that the world operated in shades of gray. No action was ever solely good or bad, even if you only look at the effects for one person. After all, people didn’t do anything if it didn’t benefit them in some way, even if it was just them feeling good about themselves. 

So, when Fury told her to infiltrate Stark Industries and get close to the CEO, she didn’t hesitate. A party boy with deep pockets, a weakness for women and daddy issues? It was almost boring.

***

_“You’ve been compromised,” their handler said._

_Natasha knew their handler was talking about both of them. She didn’t know what tipped them off, what showed that Natasha cared more about the teen than herself, or if she’d simply been unable to keep up the act._

_She hoped that that night hadn’t given them away, that Natasha hadn’t done this by offering comfort, by being soft and supportive._

_That it wasn’t her fault._

_Bright eyes filled with tears pleaded, ears flattened against hair that never grew more than a few inches, fangs shined, absolutely useless against the cloth gag._

_Their handler handed Natasha a gun with an expectant look._

_Natasha took it, keeping her mask firmly in place. She knew that they hadn’t had her protégé go through graduation. She knew what the girl’s fate would be if Natasha didn’t pull the trigger. What the fate of each following generation would be._

_Natasha thought about the things she’d heard recently. If the whispers were true and she shot her handler now, they’d both escape. They’d both make it out alive and they’d be able to come back and kill them all..._

_Or, they’d both be dead._

**_Or worse,_** _Natasha thought._

_Without blinking, she pulled the trigger. The shot rang loud, blood splattered on her shoes, painting the wall and the floor. A tail fell with a wet flop, the body sagged in the bonds, hiding the neat hole in the forehead and giving Natasha a view of the messy back, the blonde hair nearly black._

_Natasha didn’t flinch. Not even when the unnatural quiet overwhelmed her. She never dropped her masks. They weren’t masks, not anymore. The thread of empathy that had wiggled free was sliced off._

_No one in the Red Room questioned her again._

_Natasha’s protégé was dead and she didn’t know her name. She’d never asked, and she never went back to look at the files. It didn’t matter._

_The ledger started in red._

***

The failure was her own. She was thrown when she met Stark. His fangs flashed as he spoke, but not as a threat, it was just a thing that happened when he smiled.

It had been brief, she hadn’t been meant to see, but she had. She’d seen a glimpse below the mask he always wore. He was a person below that facade, a man who was tired and dying. Who was scared and alone.

Stark had quickly pawned her off on his bodyguard. She was thrown but tried to roll with it. Interacting with Hogan set her teeth on edge. She was used to sexism and the irritating overconfidence that men in Hogan’s line of work had, but it didn’t mean she liked it. When Stark didn’t look into her past she was irritated. SHIELD’s photoshoot had been a waste of time, apparently. She tried to draw Stark’s attention by dropping his condescending bodyguard when he touched her, but it didn’t work. Stark wrinkled his nose at her and she left with the hollow victory of beating Hogan. She hadn’t even done it in a way that would teach him a real lesson.

She should have changed tactics as soon as Stark dismissed her. She either needed to show more skin, get him to find those pictures, or approach from a nonsexual angle. She hadn’t. She hadn’t because when she looked at him she hadn’t seen him. All she had seen was the desperate terrified eyes and the limp tail of her trainee.

Natasha had buried the memory deep. Slips into that part of her ledger were rare and hadn’t happened on mission since meeting Clint. She’d thought she was past it. She didn’t even take Stark being a cat into consideration.

She hadn’t had a choice back then. Not really. The risk was too great. She knew that. Killing the person she cared about most forced her to refine her skills. And when the writing on the wall, when the whispers became shouts, she left. Emerging from the burning remains of the building that held her captive.

In the debriefing, she admitted her failure with Stark freely. She’d messed up, she hadn’t taken one of the most important facets of his identity into consideration. It had ruined everything. She had just followed a plan instead of reacting to the situation and she’d made that plan without taking his sense of smell into consideration. She remembered his nose wrinkling. He’d been uncomfortable. She couldn’t be sure why—whether it was perfume, pheromones, or just her that he reacted poorly to—but it was tied to a sense that she hadn’t considered relevant. Sure, if she’d been planning on him taking her home she would have put more thought into her scent, but she’d wanted to be an assistant, not a onetime roll in the sheets, so she’d just worn something nondescript and inoffensive. 

SHIELD didn’t need to know why she hadn’t factored it in. No one alive knew (she’d made sure of it).

The Red Room wouldn’t have been kind to her for her incompetence. She never should have made a mistake like that. She’d gotten complacent in her time with SHIELD, going in and doing what they wanted without thought. Sometimes she failed, but it was never because she’d been sloppy.

Fury had torn her a new one. He wanted Stark’s money, brain and suits. He needed the billionaire broken and begging in order to control him. 

Which was true. She knew Stark would be impossible to contain otherwise. He’d been on SHIELD’s radar since he was born, but he’d never been a threat until after Afghanistan. He was too self-absorbed to cause trouble. Anything he could be (and had been) that could have caused problems was curbed with little effort. He was predictable while Stane held his leash. SHIELD held Stane’s. They knew about his double dealing and used it on occasion. They never let on that they were, of course. They needed the blackmail material. Stark couldn’t be swayed on his weapons being used for the greater good and the world needed a way around that. This situation worked for everyone. After all, Stark had the parties, women and money. All he had to do was invent and give the odd presentation. Yes, he often dealt with mergers and acquisitions and expansion, but he didn’t need to.

Stane was gone. SHIELD would have liked it to go down differently, but they had a plan to deal with the fallout. The ownership of Howard’s son needed to transfer. With the Iron Man suit in play, SHIELD needed direct control now more than ever. They couldn’t rely on another intermediary.

Coulson had tried to be the contact by providing and alibi. If Stark became too unruly they could stick on of their own in the suit. Unfortunately, Stark had seen that and the play had failed.

Natasha was supposed to be a softer touch. Stark was compromised, dying. His thinking was unclear due to poisoning and emotions running high. It was an opportune time to slip in.

But, she couldn’t. She was compromised. Compromised by a smile and a flick of a tail. 

A week after she was fired from SI, she sat down with some vodka and mourned for the person she used to be, the unflappable woman could turn her feelings off. The woman who could do what needed to be done. (The woman who didn’t wake up from nightmares of pleading eyes and no longer blonde hair.) 

She’d promised herself she wouldn’t be one of those weaklings. The ones that were haunted by their past. The ones that were culled and never saw it coming.

Clint had dragged her out of her self-pity and reminded her that she didn’t need to break Stark. Stane had done a fantastic job of keeping Tony distracted and using him. She was much more skilled than Stane.

She agreed, but it didn’t matter. Maybe one day Natasha could look at Stark like a mark, but it wasn’t happening any time soon.

Not that she’d ever be given another chance.

She would have to let the others direct her and if she was unsure fall back on orders. It wasn’t a place she was comfortable being in, but her comfort hardly mattered—SHIELD didn’t need her happy, it needed her useful.

When Captain Rogers woke, Natasha had been reassigned. Steve Rogers had PTSD; he was depressed, alone and helpless. But he was strong, he had ridged ideals and no knowledge of the modern world to draw from. He was idealistic but trusting.

He was a challenge. It would be hard to bring someone like that under SHIELD’s thumb without him ever realizing it. And twisting his every thought and opinion to Fury and the WSC’s whim while he believed he was calling the shots would take a master manipulator and Natasha was the best. It would have never worked if they couldn’t groom him. SHIELD had to be who Rogers turned to for guidance, the people he trusted.

This was the new mission.

Captain America was to check Stark. Steve could control him, he wouldn’t abuse him, his morals wouldn’t let him. Natasha would plant ideas, twist his thinking, but his morals would remain. Steve would pick up Stark’s leash and Natasha would hold Steve’s.

This, Natasha could do.

***

“I can close it,” Natasha said as she stared into the portal. Aliens blocked her view as they poured in. She needed Steve to give her the order. To prove his place in the hierarchy, to have him be the one who saved New York. He would have the final say and Stark would congratulate him and accept the chain of command—she wasn’t naïve enough to think that the two wouldn’t butt heads, but, honestly? Rogers needed a balance and Stark could be that.

Rogers gave the order but Stark interrupted him. She hesitated, if she closed it now Tony would feel like he wasn’t listened to. It would set a bad precedent and color Tony’s opinion of them all more than it already was.

It was good she did. She felt sick watching the explosion. Stark had saved her life. He’d saved all of their lives.

“Close it,” Rogers ordered.

Natasha didn’t hesitate, she was compromised. She couldn’t think clearly when it came to Stark. Fury had told her to obey Rogers’s orders if that happened, if the orders were a mistake then they could use that to make him rely on Natasha’s opinion or endear him to SHIELD for cleaning up the mess.

The portal closed.

She knew it wasn’t quiet. New York was never quiet. This wasn’t an empty house in an abandoned town, no wind or weather, with all the animals hiding from the sudden deafening report of a gunshot. Quiet because the blood hadn’t started dripping yet.

 _No,_ there was no blood. 

There was a picturesque sky, and nothing more.

“C’mon, Stark,” she begged the clouds, knowing there was no way for them to answer now that the portal was gone.

***

She secured Selvig and the scepter.

The Hulk screamed at her, demanding to know where the Tin Man was when she joined the rest. Thor told him that the Man of Iron had died in glorious battle and was feasting in the halls of Valhalla. When Thor was done regaling them with stories, the Hulk punched him so hard he made a hole in Tony’s wall to rival Loki’s in the floor.

Despite her fear—none of the rest of them would survive the Hulk’s ire, even Rogers—she saw Loki’s face light up.

She’d thought it was because Iron Man was dead, that Earth was short one of her defenders, but when the Hulk had stormed off, Loki’s jaw twitched. He looked at the surprisingly intact bar and muttered, “Guess I won’t be getting that drink, then.”

Of course Stark would offer his enemy a drink in the middle of a battle. How did he find time to flirt while he was changing out his suit? And why did Loki seem sad about Stark’s death when he’d thrown him out the windows?

Her jaw twitched when she realized that Stark was dead because Odin decided that the princes of Asgard should throw temper tantrums on Earth, far away from his people and any enforceable consequences.

She brought her normal SHIELD persona forward and glared down at her prisoner. Beside her Clint was shaking, only barely containing the urge to release an arrow into Loki’s eye. Loki wasn’t paying attention to the archer. His eye caught hers and flicked to Thor before he raised his hands and surrendered.

Natasha watched Thor contain his brother. Thor’s attitude toward the dead New Yorkers and the glee—no, not glee... it was some sort of schadenfreude she couldn’t understand—he took in Tony’s death made her wonder if the god that leveled a New Mexico town was worse than the one that brought an army to rule the planet.

Then she remembered the part of Thor’s report that said Loki was the one that sent the destroyer and she cursed herself for falling for the act. God of Lies, indeed. Thankfully, they were cleared to leave before Clint could convince himself that blinding the bastard with an arrow wouldn’t violate their orders. She wouldn’t have stopped him.

***

Just before the elevator doors closed, Natasha excused herself. Clint made a bathroom joke to distract the others. No one ever wanted to hear about “woman troubles.” She put on an embarrassed/annoyed mask and told them she’d catch up. They would never mention it, even if asked. And Clint wouldn’t say anything either. This wasn’t the first time she’d broken away. He’d figure she was on a mission for Fury or one of the senior agents.

When she entered Stark’s bedroom, the mask was torn away.

That circle of glass shouldn’t be missing.

The Iron Man suit _really_ shouldn’t be there.

Stark had said the suit was a gold-titanium alloy and while she knew that gold was heavy, she’d never really had a proper idea. 27.4 pounds for a gold bar was eye opening, but manageable. Titanium was lighter, but that didn’t really matter when you were trying to carry what amounted to thicker, high tech plate mail able to withstand being shot by a tank at short range with no damage to the wearer.

Stark’s AI informed her of a hiding spot in the bedroom and she managed to get it stashed away without leaving any clues to its existence.

While the human-like voice was in the middle of thanking her, she attacked. A sloppy, heavy-handed attack never meant to succeed, only to short out any surveillance and sensors Stark had installed and, hopefully, destroy all the records of her hiding the suit.

The resulting spark had knocked her back more effectively than one of her widow bites. As she waited for her body to stop twitching she added black to her ledger, knowing she would never be able to wipe out the red that appeared when the sky cleared.

***

Rogers was collected by SHIELD, he had a debriefing to complete and a lot of questions to answer.

Natasha was glad she had rushed her debriefing. Clint hadn’t had time to stew after the adrenaline wore off. There was no quiet or opportunity to get lost in his head. He was distracted by his worry for her and she was able to scatter his demons before they latched in.

Clint could tell she was compromised again. They were able to support each other with no judgment. She knew it helped him, he’d gone from defensive and sullen back to the mouthy, quick-witted dick she was so fond of after a few hours.

Banner was in the wind and Fury decided not to call him in after he left the continent. They’d watch him, keep tabs, but their opportunity to catch him had passed while they were sorting everything out. They’d respected his boundaries once and he’d joined up and they weren’t willing to risk that relationship. If they left him alone, he’d come the next time they called.

SHIELD locked Loki in the dungeons, using Thor’s insistence that Loki wasn’t himself to interrogate the god under the pretense that they were checking him over. As eager SHIELD was to keep Earth safe, they weren’t going to pass up an opportunity to study a Norse god and get more time with the Tesseract (Thor insisted that it left the Earth with them) and the scepter (which SHIELD was _not_ going to let go). 

***

The video release was unsettling. She knew the AI was behind it. How deep had it dug? Why wasn’t it releasing any information about her? 

What would she do when it did?

***

It was stressful enough being compromised. Now, everyone watched her. She knew they wondered why no videos or reports of her wrong doings against Stark were exposed. They knew how she’d been alone with the AI and that there was no evidence of her time with it. It made her hypervigilant. She’d never truly been trusted and she’d understood and accepted that. She _shouldn’t_ be trusted. If she had been, if they hadn’t been watching and analyzing her every move until complacency and a trust in Fury’s judgement allowed them to relax, she never would have joined. And if they hadn’t gone back to that, she would have left. Right now, they wanted her.

Once they were nice, once they greeted her as a friend and colleague, she’d know that they were done. She’d seen it many times. Everyone wore smiles while they stabbed you in the back. No need to spook the agent you were about to burn. She was no martyr. She wasn’t going to die while there was red in her ledger. She couldn’t wipe it out, couldn’t balance it, couldn’t truly rest in the afterlife, until it was black. So she waited, ready to flee at the first sign of friendliness from her coworkers.

***

“What are you doing here?” Fury demanded. His stance and expression didn’t give her any sign that he was threatened by her, that he saw her as anything but an agent that had royally screwed up, but she didn’t relax.

“You’ll need me,” she replied, meeting his eye confidently.

“You’re compromised,” he countered.

“So are you,” she argued.

He wanted the Avengers. He desired superheroes more than anything the WSC had ever offered. She didn’t know why he was so hung up on the idea (she thought it had something to do with that “cat” of his that, if it were animated, would hit uncanny valley more often than not. He wasn’t the same after it “died” and it _wasn’t_ grief), but she didn’t need to know. Hill and Coulson knew and neither of them were concerned. That was good enough for her.

Fury wasn’t going to think through anything beyond whether he’d be able to put together the Avengers. He wouldn’t be able to play the long game on this. Stark was alive and being held captive. SHIELD had known for some time now and she’d kept it from Rogers so far. She knew Rogers hated them for putting him in the same situation he’d died for. She thought he was handling the fact that he had fought an enemy for the Tesseract and lost a soldier in the process in two different centuries all within only a few weeks (to him) remarkably well. He saw the weapons they had. He knew that they wanted him to give blood and run through tests. SHIELD wasn’t forcing the issue (yet—she had been firm on leaving it be and setting up scenarios where she was sure he could hear to continue the bond of trust). He didn’t trust SHIELD and while Fury’s little speech with the pad of the paper was good, it wouldn’t do anything but harm when Rogers heard the news about Stark. Rogers wouldn’t believe that they didn’t have him the whole time.

Natasha had to be there to get Stark. She was one of the few people Rogers still trusted. If she said they had just learned and immediately ran to the rescue, Rogers wouldn’t question it.

“Not as much as you,” Fury countered.

SHIELD was confident the man being held in Florida was Tony Stark. The WSC would need proof he wasn’t an enemy in disguise. Holding him against his will and running a million tests until everyone was satisfied would mean Stark would never join the Avengers. They may even lose Rodgers. (And may lose her too.)

She knew Fury had a plan and that that plan would require Stark to trust them. She also knew that Stark would never trust them no matter what Fury said or did. However, if Fury went in and said his spiel Stark would pause as he considered his options. It was then that she could step in and gain the trust. After all, she was the only one who knew about the suit hiding in Stark’s closet. Fury’s rage and dismay at finding out that she’d hidden that fact wouldn’t be contained. Fury had masks, sure, but they were easily undone when he was truly angry.

She needed to win Stark over and keep Rogers’s faith. They were both unmoored currently.

“Don’t fuck this up,” Fury ordered.

His tone and expression made it clear that this was her last chance. That, if she couldn’t get Stark out and satisfy the WSC at the same time, she was finished.

She swallowed, wondering if she should just disappear when they landed, find another cause to support, another shadow organization that did good and that wouldn’t be an enemy to SHIELD to wipe out that red. Banner had hidden successfully for a few months. She had training. She’d last years, possibly decades. There was a high chance that she’d be labeled a threat even if she did free Stark. Hiding that suit from SHIELD—from Fury—would not be forgiven. And there was only a slim chance that Fury would lie for her, dig her out of her hole and save her. 

Natasha had been proud of the black that she’d added when she’d hidden that suit and killed the AI and records. She knew Tony’s wishes and had decided to honor them. She owed him that for closing the portal.

And she knew that if she left Stark in SHIELD’s clutches, if she allowed Fury to compromise his position, Fury would be removed. The WSC wouldn’t hesitate to hold Stark and everyone he loved hostage. They wanted weapons. They wanted control.

She also knew all of her thoughts were compromised. That nothing she was planning was logical. But, they’d tried logic on Stark and each attempt failed. It was time to approach things emotionally. She wanted to help the cat. That was more than could be said by anyone else he’d see in the near future.

Even if this was her downfall she’d still be in the red. However, if she left him to SHIELD and the WSC’s mercy she’d never get rid of the red.

She’d never find rest for her protégé. Never be free from the nightmares.

It was time for her to have her own agenda. Her relationship with SHIELD was tenuous anyway. She saw the report someone had written in her name. Tony Stark not recommended. Rogers had asked her about it and she’d given a non-answer. Who knew if Stark had seen it or what else they attributed to her? Some of the things that were online now made her look at the other agents sideways. The last thing she needed was an enemy as powerful and smart as Stark. Especially one that had access to SHIELD’s files and YouTube.

There were whispers. SHIELD was compromised.

Fury wanted the Avengers. He wanted a team.

She wanted a family. But, she’d settle for comfort and safety away from another’s banner. If she could win Stark’s trust she’d be set.

“I won’t,” she promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t mind Thor, his personality here is based solely on what Nat saw in The Avengers movie and hearsay. Same for her opinion of Loki.
> 
> Also, the more I delve into Nat’s character the more interesting she gets.
> 
> Adding the rec: [The End of Infinity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18899449/chapters/44862319) a huge WIP that constantly has me on the edge of my seat


	8. Epilogue - Wong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wong is difficult to get a read on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'ed by the best. Everyone thank [Missaness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missaness/profile)!
> 
> Remember that cliffhanger I was talking about?

Wong knew that the Ancient One was mysterious at the best of times. He hadn’t grown frustrated with her antics like many of the other students did. He could see how patient she was, how forgiving, how _good_ she remained despite the weight on her shoulders. To see so many faces, to know that they were only blinks in her life and that she still cared about them, still tried to help them, still cried when they failed…

Well, Wong knew he wasn’t supposed to see that last bit. The execution was rather public and her mask hadn’t fallen at all during it. It was only after; when he decided to bring her some tea that he’d seen it. A lone tear, gone in the blink of an eye, a sign for him to look at the hunch of her shoulders, at the set of her mouth. He saw what the others didn’t, a person who was trying her best, just like the rest of them. Her mistakes could cause the end of the universe and yet she didn’t destroy indiscriminately. She’d said that everyone had the potential for good, but Wong thought that she just couldn’t bear not giving them a chance.

Like most of the others, Mordo had collected Wong. Wong wasn’t sure how long Mordo had been at Kamar-Taj, though he knew it didn’t really matter. Time didn’t mean mastery. Most of the students left before getting red robes, finding magic too difficult or Kamar-Taj too restricting. Wong had been asked if he wanted to give up more than once. Magic was hard, both to learn and to control.

The red robes he’d gotten this month still surprised him. He figured anyone would feel the same after wearing white for years. But they represented more than just knowledge. He hadn’t given up. When the others who came around the same time as he did moved on or left. When the people who passed him and when most of the masters dismissed him, he’d kept at it. The robes were proof that he belonged.

Mordo was the only one who didn’t dismiss him.

It was Mordo who got through to him. It had taken years. Mordo had placed his hands on Wong’s shoulders, sliding them down his arms and the magic hit him like a jolt.

Wong hadn’t been able to look at the man the same way after that. 

The magic within Wong was strong, but tied too closely to his emotions. Wong had to meditate more than any of the others. He also worked on perfecting his own mask to rival the Ancient One’s. He needed to feel to do magic, but he had to focus so as to not be overwhelmed. Others knowing that was a liability. 

No one had to tell him that they trained to protect the Earth. The Ancient One had told him it was her task when they’d met. Even if he hadn’t understood that they were there to support her then, between the physical training and the emphasis on offensive spells it would be clear to anyone. 

It almost felt like a betrayal to dislike that aspect of this life. He preferred to sit among the stacks of books. They spoke to him and he felt protective of them. The Librarian, a man who’s name had been lost to all but himself and the Ancient One, had understood and took Wong under his wing. Wong had asked why he and the Ancient One didn’t have names. His reply was to ask why Wong didn’t give his first name. Wong had been embarrassed, remembering the stories he’d read as a child of fae and old magic. The Librarian hadn’t laughed, he said that it was once a legitimate fear; that it still was in some realms.

That was when Wong felt at home. The Ancient One had granted Wong’s request to train with the Librarian, so long as he still studied his spells and trained his body with Mordo. 

Wong felt the last bit was some sort of penance for his past mistakes. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the man who brought him here. He was fascinated by him. The more he learned about him the closer he wanted to be to him. Mordo seemed flat at first glance and Wong knew the Ancient One thought him inflexible. But Wong didn’t think so. He thought there was more to it than that. There was depth there, but it was hidden, buried and paved over. Wong was tempted to dig, but he was well aware of what his interest usually led to and kept his distance. He didn’t need heartbreak here. Not when he’d just gotten himself settled enough to use magic. Instead, Wong practiced being aloof.

Mordo followed his lead and kept as quiet as he could during their training sessions, only speaking to correct Wong’s form or give advice.

Wong didn’t go looking for friendships or trouble. He just focused on doing what he was told.

It worked well. Wong was easily able to keep himself centered.

***

It was an argument over dinner that changed things. 

_“The Ancient One’s stance is quite clear—”_

_“She is not infallible, and it is an abomination. Sex is for procreation—”_

_“Sex is for comfort! For closeness! Is a man who cannot have children no longer a man?”_

_“It is not necessary for a man to have sex to be a man to do things with his life! It is his duty to repress those urges—”_

_“If that is true then why must you have sex to form a soul bond?”_

With that question, Master Hamir won the argument. Wong was glad, he saw no problems with same sex relationships, but the exchange had left a sour taste in his mouth. Sure, with enough time he was able to form enough of an emotional bond to feel sexual attraction, but he knew many that weren’t that way. An inability to bond implied that there was something wrong with them.

He finished his food. He might have left it, if he hadn’t hated when food went to waste more than the uncomfortable weight in his stomach. He went to the place he felt most centered, the place with the answers to the heavy questions in his head. 

The library.

***

Wong read every book he could find about bonding. It _wasn’t_ true that you had to have sex to form a bond. The spells regarding bonding weren’t especially detailed. To the casual reader, they might be written off as hearsay, but there were multiple references to bonded pairs that had never had sex. When soulmates met their souls bonded, they didn’t need more than each other’s full attention. Usually their bodies pulled them together and forced them to complete the bond as quickly as possible, since both were vulnerable as long as the bond was incomplete. But just spending time together would bind them just as tightly.

The more Wong read, the more he felt repulsed at bonds built with sex. The people weren’t always compatible. The people who needed sex (not to be confused by the people who felt the need) were forcing something against nature. Bonds didn’t require magic, magic enhanced them. Average people were able to reduce pain in their bonded with their presence. They couldn’t do it over a distance, true, but their empathy took some of the burden off the other. Many couples could seemingly read each other’s minds. The non-magical nature of their bonds didn’t allow them to actually hear the words, but they still _knew_. 

Soulbonds were interesting and soulmates even more so. Wong spent months pouring over books. He learned that soulmates didn’t even need spells to enhance their bond. If either learned magic later they’d still have full use of the bond and would be able to help their counterpart(s—Wong kept forgetting that there were poly bonds, even for soulmates) utilize whatever they had access to.

The books held the answers that settled him. Anyone could bond, provided they opened themselves up or met their soulmate. And Wong didn’t want to admit it, even to himself, but he wanted that. He wanted the closeness and the comfort. And maybe, just maybe, he could have it.

***

Wong sighed.

_Strange._

The name was a curse, the man more so.

Perhaps Wong wouldn’t have minded him so much if Mordo hadn’t been so interested. Jealousy was an ugly emotion, though, and Wong meditated every time he felt his frustration build.

When it became known that Strange _(Strange!)_ had a soulmate Wong had to meditate for nearly an entire week. It should have made him feel better. Strange wouldn’t likely take up with Mordo if he had a bond already. It wasn’t like Strange would be looking for a date. But the fact that Strange had found someone perfect for him, had found a companion when Wong had never been able to, was maddening.

Strange was a pompous arrogant asshole and every time he opened his stupid mouth Wong wanted to choke him.

Apparently, the meditation wasn’t enough. Mordo came to talk to him after a particularly dangerous backfire.

“Why are you so hostile to him?” Mordo asked.

 _“Why aren’t you?”_ Wong wanted to counter. He didn’t. It would be pure emotion talking. He took a breath and admitted, “I’m jealous.”

Mordo had sat and spoken with him for hours, allowing Wong to vent all his frustration. Wong appreciated it greatly. Wong felt closer than ever to the other sorcerer.

He wondered if he should try. Holding Mordo at a distance was starting to hurt. Maybe this time things could be different.

***

Wong bashed Stephen over the head with his favorite book. 

Thankfully, Mordo settled him before Wong did something more. 

“Throwing away a soulmate!” Wong seethed when they were both out of Strange’s hearing distance. “Why would he—"

“Shh, it’s ok. You fixed it,” Mordo soothed him. “Still, maybe leave the information distributing to the Librarian, he’s better at it than you.”

“But—” Wong started.

Mordo pressed his finger to Wong’s lips. “None of that. He can’t help that you’re smarter than him.”

Wong chuckled and pressed into Mordo’s side.

He smiled when Mordo didn’t move away.

***

When Tony Stark arrived at Kamar-Taj Wong understood. Strange was annoying, yes, but he was also sincere. He was smart and smart people were annoying, especially when they were curious. And Strange was practically the definition of curious. (Wong tried not to stare at Strange’s tail lashing whenever he discovered something new and interesting he didn’t understand. It seemed a bit racist.) 

Talking with Tony Stark, watching the man from between stacks of books, Wong understood that they were the same. They were both glib to hide their emotions, they were both too sensitive for their own good, they both got wrapped up in their thoughts and they were both _idiots._

***

The Ancient One had several meetings with Mordo while Tony Stark was there, and he noticed that instead of being happy that one of her disciples had formed a soulbond she was distressed.

Wong waited until Stephen was gone off to change into his red robes to confront her. He knew she’d be more open than Mordo would. Since his attempts at flirting were going well, he didn’t want the other man thinking that he was using him.

“What is wrong with their bond?”

The Ancient One smiled at him, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It is going to make their lives difficult.”

Wong frowned; he didn’t understand.

“Tony Stark is a passionate man; his emotions control him.”

“So?” Wong asked. Stephen was relatively even tempered. Surely it could only be a good thing that one of the most powerful men in the world now had an anchor. Wong understood being emotionally driven. It made some things challenging (like magic). But it could only be a good thing that a man who held so much power wasn’t heartless. Caring about people would prevent him from becoming some sort of supervillain.

“He is also Iron Man,” she added, as if he wasn’t aware of that.

“Is that bad?” Wong asked. He knew he shouldn’t read into it too much—he wasn’t Tony Stark—but the part of him that was ashamed of his emotions required an answer.

The Ancient One tapped a fan against her chin. “Stephen will feel every hit his soulmate takes as if it was his own. Before, Tony would use alcohol to numb the emotional strain his position and work puts on him.”

Wong waited. He knew there was more to it.

“He already blames himself for the people his weapons killed. Now he’s actively killing people. He hasn’t injured anyone he considers undeserving yet, but how do you imagine he’ll handle it when people start blaming him for bystander’s deaths? When he internalizes _that._ When he realizes that no matter what he does he can’t save everyone?”

Wong found he didn’t know. Stark had seemed unsettled while he was here. Wong had assumed it was his injuries. The magic and bond issues probably weren’t easy for a man of science to understand either.

The Ancient One didn’t continue. Her expression made it clear she wouldn’t.

And Wong understood. She’d faced the same issues, and they’d left marks on her soul. Wong thought about Stark and how his eyes were already haunted. He thought about Strange too. How he was only learning to fight to train his body, how he had no intention of hurting anyone, how seriously he’d taken his oath to do no harm. 

Wong wondered how it’d weigh on Strange when the doctor broke his oath. When he killed someone for the first time (and he would, death was a natural part of life and sometimes there was no other way).

Would the two compound each other’s demons? Would Strange turn on his mate, demand that he retire? That he stop killing people? Would Stark twist Strange, encourage him to kill when it wasn’t necessary?

Both the Ancient One and Wong lapsed into an uneasy silence.

“Will it be ok?” Wong asked.

“Support Stephen,” the Ancient One said, her expression said it all.

It wouldn’t.

“Will it be _ok?”_ Wong pressed. He was worried now. Strange was powerful and he’d already proven that he was reckless. Stark was worse. One half could rule the mystical realm and the other the physical, together they could tear apart the multiverse.

“Yes,” she said. There was both comfort and great pain in her expression.

Wong understood, the universe would be fine.

But the pain and pressure of her position weighed on her. The pain and pressure of being a _public_ hero would be infinitely worse. 

Tony Stark couldn’t change the spotlight he was under. By associating with him, Strange would be subject to the public eye as well. Stark had grown up under constant surveillance. Strange, however, hadn’t. Would it tear them apart?

Only if one of them did something stupid. With them, it was practically guaranteed.

Strange could come back to Kamar-Taj. Stark, however…

“He’ll make a mistake,” Wong said. With the responsibility and power Stark held his mistakes could kill them all.

“Of course he will; he’s human.”

Wong wondered if the man knew that.

A streak of red passed through the courtyard, catching their eyes and they turned in the other direction, looking in the direction Strange had gone. 

Wong realized that the Ancient One might have been talking about Strange.

His mistakes could kill them all too. And even though nobody would know about Strange’s casualties, Strange had more moral baggage than Stark.

Maybe, feeling strongly wasn’t inherently good or bad. Empathy was a double-edged sword. It was how you handled it that mattered.

 _When he forgets he’s human,_ Wong thought, already knowing that Strange wouldn’t accept mistakes, _I’ll remind him._

Something caught the Ancient One’s senses and she flinched.

“Get some cleaning supplies and go with Mordo to Stephen’s room.”

“Is he ok?” Wong asked, wondering what she’d felt.

She was frowning, the stress she’d shown earlier had compounded and she’d turned back and was looking in the direction of the airport.

Wong didn’t need any more information. 

He had hoped that Strange would be able to bask in the completion of his bond for a bit. He ran into Mordo on his way to the supply closet and directed him to Stephen’s room while he gathered anything he thought he’d need.

When he made it to Strange’s room, he found Mordo covered in sick and Strange pale and shaking, half out of his head. Seeing Strange like that was horrible. He picked Strange up and tried to comfort him. 

Strange bared his fangs at him and cursed. He babbled, many words were incomprehensible, but Wong got the gist.

“Tony isn’t dead, it’s ok,” Wong said.

Strange was distraught. He described the emptiness, pain and fear. The lack of his normal eloquence made it worse. Wong’s heart broke for him. 

Somehow, Wong had forgotten that Stark was constantly in mortal danger. He was highly likely to be killed. He knew that Strange would probably survive if Stark died, their bond was new and Strange was a sorcerer, he could be protected from the backlash.

Though it wasn’t likely he would survive intact. Not with how he was currently acting.

Some healers arrived and managed to get Strange settled. Wong sought out the Ancient One, but she was gone from Kamar-Taj. He found Mordo, freshly showered, and dragged him to the library. They needed to set up protective spells in case something worse happened to Stark. Strange had seemed steadier when Wong had left him, but he was hardly in the right mind to be doing spells that could cut him off from his mate.

The Librarian joined them and Master Hamir helped. Together they devised a plan. They could get all the spells they needed on Strange without his consent if necessary, but both Wong and Mordo felt uncomfortable about that. Wong wanted to ask why Master Hamir and the Librarian felt that such measures would be necessary, but Mordo already looked slightly ill.

“There’s a spell that’ll send a burst of energy through the bond, it would save Stark’s life from a killing blow. The bond needs some time to recover, and if it’s severed in that time it wouldn’t harm Strange. The spell requires Strange’s help, it can’t be done without his consent,” Wong offered as a compromise.

Mordo insisted this was the solution.

The Librarian argued that a clean cut was better, that the magical toll needed to fuel the attack would be too great for Strange to handle. There was a spell that dissipated the bond safely if one were killed. It also muted any effects that might hinder a sorcerer in their quest to protect Earth. Even if Strange resisted the spell could be placed.

“We should present both options,” Master Hamir countered.

Wong knew that Strange would consent to either set of spells, once they explained they worked both ways. Strange wouldn’t want Stark killed if he died. But it wasn’t likely that he’d want his connection suppressed. The spell made Wong’s skin crawl even though there was a good reason the spell existed. And Wong wasn’t sure Strange would be able to help them with the protection spell. It was complex, the bond was new, Strange hadn’t had time to acquaint himself to it. He couldn’t be expected to be able to manipulate it yet.

The other masters didn’t seem convinced, but Wong didn’t want a fight. He had an oozing prickling feeling up his neck.

“We should go ask now, not waste any more time,” Wong said, his tone brokered no argument. It was best to act now, if Strange had any hope of helping them or even making a clear-headed decision.

All of them gathered their books and walked to Strange’s room.

***

Every master was gathered to help. Strange had more power than they’d expected and the bond was extremely resilient. The spells were draining on everyone, especially Strange. But thankfully everything was finished and in place when the screaming started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I did my job right you should be screaming. Why not read some unconventional smut to calm down? Try [Io](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19351933) by Bravehardt, Foxglove_Fiction
> 
> I have many scenes of part 2 written out, but you'll have to wait quite a while for it. Especially since I've been making fanart instead of writing. Check out @gizmotrinketart on twitter and @theartone on Tumblr for some lineart to color.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my Twitter @gizmotrinket and my Tumblr @theartone I have some neat stuff going on.


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